Mick didn’t stay in Portsmouth, Washington very long.
It was too small of a town with not enough things to burn. It was cold, but not as cold as Len which only agitated Mick further, his heat eating up the cold like it was nothing. A month in and Mick left, the memory of Len still following him like a ghost. Mick decided to try the east coast cold and see what that had to offer.
“You’re not cooling down nearly as rapid as before,” Lisa observed one day, two years or so after Len watched Mick combust in a glorious fire.
“No, I’m not.”
Lisa sighed. Her brother had been closed off and distant ever since he had lost Mick. He had been closed off before Mick, but never with her. She knew he would never admit it, but he was heartbroken, or as close to the thing as he would allow himself to get. It wasn’t everyday your lover for nearly twenty years burst into flames, but Lisa knew that wasn’t all of it. Mick had survived the fire; she found Len’s research a month after the incident, tracing his movements around the country. Len could reach out and fix this, but that would mean admitting he had played a major role in the demise of Mick. That was the real reason for Len’s attitude.
“Why?” Lisa pressed after a stalemate of silence. Len was pretending to be busy with his blueprints but Lisa knew he was avoiding the topic.
“I don’t know,” Len rubbed his head tiredly. “I think the process had time to restart since my freeze over.”
A year ago, without Mick around anymore, Len’s powers froze nearly half of Central City. Luckily it was the dead of winter and no one had taken any real notice. Len hadn’t been able to control his cold at all and once it took over, Len froze. For two fucking months.
Lisa thought he died when she found his limp body surrounded by ice, frost, and snow but it turned out that the asshole was hibernating. Fucking hibernating. Two months later, Lenny’s powers seemed to have reached their capacity and he began to melt, thawing out slowly. It took two weeks before Len woke up in a puddle of freezing water. Lisa nearly killed him right then and there for making her worry.
However, Len’s freeze-over and Mick’s combustion taught them all one thing: they seriously didn’t know what they were messing with. Both had survived their temperature caps, but everything around them didn’t. Mick burnt down an entire neighborhood and turned a building into ash, not parts, dust. It all blew away before anyone could come and once they did, the building was like it was never there. Len froze over the entire city. If it hadn’t been for Lisa and a gang of police officers, people would have been frozen solid and trapped in their homes. Lisa hadn’t been able to even see her brother after a month, thick coats of ice entrapping the building. Bottom line, there powers were dangerous and they more they neglected them, the more damage they did.
After the temperature cap, Len was fine but it was hard to regain his own control when he had been using Mick as a crutch for so long. Even now that a year had passed since his freeze over, Len still had trouble keeping his cold in check.
“Because Mick was heating you up for so long?” Lisa attempted to fill in the rest, actually interested in knowing what was going on but as soon as she had Mick’s name, Len shut down.
“I don’t know.” He stood up, pushing everything aside. “I’m going.”
Lisa watched as her brother left, the cold swirling around him and following close.
Mick never stayed in one place too long, dotting himself around the country, even going south of the border for a few weeks and to Canada for six days. There were only three places Mick refused to step foot in: Keystone City, Central City and Gotham City. Those were his rules. Anywhere else was free for the picking.
After Portsmouth, Washington, Mick went to Amnesty Bay, Maine where he stayed for two days, watched a man turn into a fish and decided he needed some place normal, away from the mystics and thoughts of Snart’s cold. He ended up in New Orleans, Louisiana which was kind of counterproductive on the magic front but he was able to drink himself into a coma and lit many fires without people batting an eye. Plus, the temperature never dipped past 80º which meant Mick hardly thought about Len. His temperatures did spike and he ended up burning down a crumbling parking garage on night which evened it out for a few days.
He then went to bask in the heat of Dallas, Texas before slipping down the border and going as far as Chile before it started getting cold again and headed straight back up. Mick stole wool as white as snow from Chile, thinking maybe if he ever saw Len again it could line his and Lisa’s coats. That thought only lasted him until Panama where he burned the wool as well as an entire port to dust. His heat still clung.
Mick never had a sure-fire direction after that, going where the wind blew and ignited his flames. Most places never lasted too long.
His longest stay had been in Gateway City, California where Mick met a girl who liked his fire on her skin. She was the only person Mick had been with besides Len and he tried not to think that she wasn’t cold enough (or as good) as Len had been. After one particularly nasty incident with a severe burn on her inner thighs, Mick disappeared and went for the other side of the country, knowing that Lenny would only ever be able to handle his heat so he should just stop trying. Perhaps being destined to be cursed and alone weren’t so bad.
He considered seeking out other ice metas. He had done the damn research, knew where they were but he could never get himself to track them down. He didn’t want a repeat of what when down with Snart. He wasn’t sure he could go through it all again when he was still obviously attached to the other man. In the end, he chose isolation. The only benefit was that if he went through another combustion, it might actually kill him this time.
Mick made scattered stops through many states until he wound up in Ivy Town, New York where he watched young care-free students go to classes and wondering if life had been different for him and Lenny, if they would have gone to college and tried to think what their majors would be.
No matter where he went, thoughts of Len followed. In Blue Valley, Nebraska, Mick wondered if Len would have ever wanted a colonial style home with a wraparound porch and a swing or something completely different. In Dime City, Connecticut, Mick wondered if Len still thought politics were pointless or if he had changed his mind and finally got himself registered to vote (Mick got Lisa registered the minute she turned 18, much to Len’s distaste). In Solar City, Florida, Mick grinned at the sea spray and knew Len would have hated it but Lisa would have loved it. In Blüdhaven, New Jersey, Mick watched the television glorify a skin-clad acrobatic youth and thought Len could beat him with his wit alone. In Middleton, Colorado, Mick found a cottage on a high mountain where the cold kind of worked but knew it would never be anything as good as what Len could offer, even on a bad day. In Civic City, Pennsylvania, Mick rescued a kid from a burning building with eyes that looked at him like he was worth something, eyes like Lenny’s. In Fawcett City, Georgia, Mick gave up trying to stop thinking about Len and locked himself in a warehouse in the slums where he could burn and roll in the memories.
After that, it didn’t matter where he went because even if Len wasn’t with him, Mick still couldn’t escape him.
Len began taking more jobs out of Central City. He never went all too far, mostly sticking to the east coast and never going too far south or north. It was just, as stupid as it was, Central City was his and Mick’s city. They were going to rule it together with fire and ice. Now that Mick was gone, Len felt almost wrong in taking it without him.
That’s not to say Len stopped jobs in Central City altogether. He still came back, every couple of weeks or so, and did what he did best. He still enjoyed the game, probably always would. But it didn’t have the same touch without Mick’s wild ferocity both challenging and aiding his plans.
There was another reason Len would leave Central City for weeks at a time, one that he clouded over with talks of robberies and heists. One that he hid from Lisa, although from her snooping she had probably already figured it out.
So what if the Len happened to be on a job in the small town of Happy Harbor, Rhode Island at the same time a heat wave rolled in mid-November. So what if Len snatched a cluster of rubies out of the hands of Spanish Ambassadors a few days after ten factories were mysteriously burnt to the ground on the south side of Washington D.C. So what if Viceroy, South Carolina had a Precious Metals Collection up for grabs as well as fields of burning crops and rumors of fire breathers.
It was for the score, Len would tell Lisa despite the soot that clung to the bottoms of his shoes after walking through the abandoned burning sites, sucking in any lingering heat.
Eventually, Mick found his way back home. Not Central City, although it was within reach. No, two years later Mick found himself looking up at the brand new construction of a farm house on the out skirts of Keystone City. If you looked on a map, it technically wasn’t in Keystone, just outside the city lines, so Mick still counted it as following his rules. (Although vernacularly, it was fucking Keystone.)
Mick watched as a new family moved into the farm house: a father, a pregnant mother, two little boys and an even littler girl. Mick watched as the brothers fought and played while the little girl cheered them on. When one of the boys (the older one, but the looks of it) pushed the girl over, the mother came running to her daughter’s aid. They had a dog, a collie of some sort that the younger looking boy liked to pet and play with. Mick wondered if the small farm town had told the family of the fourteen year old boy who killed his family there. Probably not yet, but Mick wouldn’t be surprised when it happened. Neighbors, no matter how far apart they were in farm country, still gossiped like no tomorrow.
He didn’t want to admit it, but he spent hours, then days, nearly a whole week watching that family move in and acquaint to farm life. Mick would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about bringing Len and Lisa out there once or twice when they were still together, still married and happy. He never ended up doing so; Len and even more so Lisa were city folk to their core. But Mick was from the country and in a way it would always stick with him.
Mick stayed at a bed and breakfast by his old farm for a month, dreaming of the past and a future that would never happen. A future where Lenny and he would grow old and come to the farm house, taking day trips to the nearby towns of Keystone, Central, maybe even longer trips to Gotham, Metropolis, New York or Washington D.C. Wherever Lenny wanted to go.
He dreamed of a dog, something big that Mick could run with in the backyard, something tame so Len could snuggle against it, and something cute so Lisa could coo over when she visited. He also imagined cats, a couple of them that Len would dot on and read with. Mick never thought himself a cat person, but he’d adapt for Len.
More than a few times, those dreams would involve a kid or two (one time even five). They changed in appearance, attitude and gender almost every single time. It never really mattered to Mick what they were like (they were his kids after all) but they always looked like Lenny in some way or another. Sometimes it was their physical appearance. Sometimes it was the way they smiled or how their eyebrows furrowed together. Sometimes it was how they talked or were able to snatch an extra cookie without Mick taking notice until it was too late.
Sometimes they adopted kids with powers who didn’t know what to do or how to control them. Sometimes they just adopted normal kids that came from broken homes or from backgrounds undesirable to other people.
Sometimes they just were alone and Mick liked those dreams too. No one was watching them and they could let their guards down. They could laugh without someone taking it as a form of weakness. They could joke and smile at each other without the threat of someone taking advantage of their outward affections. They could play chess (Len would probably beat him), hike (Mick would have to force Len, but he’d love secretly), dance (in the living room by candle light, not often but a few times, to Dean Martin or another rat pack member), or simply just sit on the porch (Len reading and Mick soaking in the sun without threat of another combustion).
Mick had enjoyed those dreams, those blissful dreams of lives Lenny and he could never have. Then those dreams took a turn for the worst.
Dreams of fire interrupted familial scenes, dogs and cats running for shelter in the fields as wildfire spread through. A home with cherished memories and mementos would melt and crack under smoldering heat. Smoke drowned out the sounds of laughter, Dean Martin, and sweet nothing whispers, replacing them with the shrieks of children trapped in a burning house, dogs and cats crying as their coats burned, Lenny and Lisa choking on the flames-
Mick watched as his family farm burnt for a second time. He sat in the same spot on the front yard, watching the wood splinter and crack under the intense heat. When Mick didn’t think it was enough, he’d add more fire until the roof crashed down and smoke colored the sky black.
This time, Mick hid before the firefighters and police cars came. This time, Mick watched as the family came back from a dinner in Keystone to their home that was now a pile of rubble. This time, Mick took the main road instead of the corn fields that blazed around the house. This time, Mick let himself feel guilt for both the fire he started now, the fire he started long ago, and the fire he started in his mind where his future with Lenny had briefly lived.
Lisa left Central City frequently. She always had. She liked the freedom to go wherever she wanted and as long as she checked in with her brother, he didn’t care where she went as long as she took care of herself. Len (and Mick before the fi-) had made sure Lisa could handle any situation she needed with words (or fists like Mick had shown her). She was more than prepared and was now well into adulthood.
Len barely batted an eye when she said she wanted to go to the Big Apple. With a thick wool scarf covered kiss to his beanie covered head, Lisa left the apartment, the same apartment Lenny brought when he made his first big score so he’d have a place to always come back to and Lisa wouldn’t have to live under Lewis Snart’s roof.
The first few months after Mick’s combustion, Len stayed in safe houses and warehouses all over Central City. When Lisa finally got him to come back to the apartment, he refused a bed, sleeping on the couch instead. Every now and then, Lisa would catch him at the doorway of Mick’s old room, not going inside in case he moved something. His old room was sealed shut with a thick wall of ice. Len would never be able to get inside without someone to melt down the door. Lisa knew that was the point.
Getting on her motorcycle outside the apartment, rather than heading north like she had claimed to her brother, Lisa went across the river toward Kansas.
Mick was surprised when a knocked, clear and strong, sounded on the door to the shitty apartment he was squatting at in Topeka, Kansas. Topeka still technically didn’t break the rules but stepping the line since Keystone was twenty minutes away and Central was forty. He cautiously approached the door, oven mitts on his hands to avoid breaking further damage to the melted door knobs. They were a pain to replace, especially when he was running too hot like now.
Opening it, Mick was both shocked and anxious at seeing Lisa Snart. She gave him a look over, eyeing his new scars unashamed but stopping at the red and blue oven mitts on his hands. A tiny smirk tricked up her lips.
“Still running hot, Micky?”
It had been so long since someone spoke to him, someone who (maybe) cared about him and knew him and didn’t care that he burned everything he touched. Mick would be lying if he said it didn’t make his chest constrict and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t send his heat down the hall to check for the other Snart sibling. He tried not to let the disappointment fill his chest, even though he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he saw Len again.
“Lenny doesn’t know I’m here,” Lisa responded to the heat that spread through the floor. “He’s still in Central City.”
Mick moved aside for Lisa to walk in, still not saying anything. It had been a while since he had spoken to a person; his voice was probably rough from lack of use.
Lisa took one look around the dirty apartment before she picked up one of Mick’s fire retardant jackets and dropped it on the bed to sit. Mick kept his distance, watching Lisa make herself at home like two years hadn’t separated him.
“Are you going to say anything?” Lisa snapped once she was situated, legs and arms crossed with a red lips pout.
“It’s good to see you,” Mick’s voice rumbled.
Lisa looked down. “I wish I’d reached out sooner.”
Mick wasn’t sure what to say to that so he switched topics. “How have you been?”
Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Do you really want to know about me or do you want to know about Lenny?” Mick looked away. “I’m fine. Lenny is okay.” Mick grunted. “He’s been keeping track of you.”
“Old habits die hard.” That’s the same thing Mick told himself when he felt an out of place cold spot. Len was just checking in, but he wouldn’t reach out until strictly necessary, if ever.
“Do you mind if I stay a while?” Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Lenny thinks I’m in New York for a week.”
“Whatever you want,” Mick shrugged. Just like Len, Mick couldn’t help but want to give Lisa whatever she desired.
Lisa pulled a grin and Mick couldn’t remember the last time he had seen her smile. “Maybe we could pull a job. I saw a decent looking bank on the way here that is looking a little inflated.”
Mick chuckled, Lisa already standing up.
“We don’t need the heat,” Len warned, his eyes flicking up. Memories of a flaming man on the forefront of his mind.
The man, the complainer, the soon to be dead body cocked his head to the side, staring Len down like he actually had say or power in this dynamic. He didn’t know his place. Len already marked him as discarded the second he shot the guard. The second he lost his cool.
“The heat?” the man sneered, like it was a joke. Not knowing Len’s past, he probably thought it was a horribly placed pun or a jab. It wasn’t. “What the hell do you think the blur is, Snart?” He stepped closer. “You’re right. Screw this, screw you. I’m out.”
He hadn’t even turned his back on Len before a bullet lodged in his brain. Len’s crew was still didn’t know about his cool and he planned to keep it that way. Absolution in a bullet was just as good for something like this.
“Well, if you’re out, you’re out.”
The two men before Len stared at the fresh body that separated them. Neither of them moved but Len didn’t care what they did, his mind was focused on something else for the first time in months. Something that wasn’t Mick or heat.
They had tried a simply grab and snatch with a Black Hawk Security truck carrying the Kahndaq Dynasty diamond. It wasn’t the first time Len had taken down a Black Hawk armored truck and he had planned this one with practiced precision. He knew their systems well, his cold being unstoppable against the thick bullet proof steel doors that turned to brittle glass with his frost. Everything was going according the plan, till a speedster in red threw off his timing. One of his men shot one of the guards. It got messy. So Len cleaned it up. Now he was down a man, but that didn’t matter with a new challenger stepping up to the plate.
He already knew the “blur’s” weakness. Now he just needed the right tools and scenario to see if he was right. To test the theory.
Sending the two men away, Len went to work, plotting and planning. He made a few calls, received one from a janitor of S.T.A.R. Labs saying he could be of service. His interest is what brought him to the warehouse by the river district.
Len looked at the wide array of weapons before him. He looked at the two guns brought in particular and knew that he didn’t need either of them. The thing was he couldn’t let someone else out there match his cold. Feigning interest in the weapon, Len shot the man down using it. His curiosity got the better of him and he was surprised to see the weapon’s power. While it didn’t have the same force of this cold, it had precision this cold didn’t have all the time, especially when emotions were high.
A thought came to Len’s mind, another theory to try out.
Turning on his heel, Len pointed the gun at the lamp fixture. He figured he’d give his idea a go, worst thing that would happen is the gun would be destroyed and that worked fine for him too. There were already too many ice metas out there.
Instead, when Len pulled the trigger and funneled his cold into the gun, the blast came out as strong as it would if it were from his bare hands, but it was contained and precise, pinpointing with more accuracy that Len had ever had before.
Grinning, Len lowered the gun. He’d have to take it apart to see how it would do so but he already felt himself growing a fraction warmer. Nothing compared to when he was with Mick, nothing would ever compare to that and for more reasons than purely biological, but it was a close thing if the discussion was control.
Taking a glance at the gun shown previously, Len weighed his options and ultimately decided that if he never saw Mick again, he could just destroy the damn thing.
Mick had missed Lisa’s laugh. Not the fake one she used when around Len’s crew or strangers that was cute, high pitched and feminine. No, Mick missed the laugh that came with a snort and closed eyes. The one that made her lose her breath. The one that only Mick and Lenny could give her.
“You haven’t changed,” Lisa grinned as they set their loot on the dusty table of Mick’s squatter apartment.
“Did you think I did?” Mick raised an eyebrow, his heat already coming back even after letting go just hours ago. His control was slipping again without the cold or Len.
“No,” Lisa admitted, “but I wondered why you never came back.”
Mick breathed in deeply. He had been thinking about it a lot for two years, even if he didn’t want to. “He’s still mad.”
“Lenny’s always mad,” Lisa muttered. “He’s got an icicle up his ass, you know that.”
“I’m not coming to him, if that’s what you’re here for,” Mick growled.
Lisa paused, cocking her head to the side. “What if he came to you?”
Mick met her eyes and he could see her plotting. Just like when they first met and she sat on those crate in the Gotham warehouse, calculating if the man holding her brother would be a good thing or a bad thing.
“Depends what he’s got to say.”
“So you’d consider it?” Hope was all too apparent in her voice, reigniting the hope in Mick’s chest. He grunted instead of giving a direct answer. “You’ll consider it,” she solidified.
“You ain’t telling him to do it though,” Mick clarified. “It won’t mean anything then,” he murmured much more quietly.
Lisa’s expression softened. So much so that she grabbed the leg of one of the broken chairs lying around and used it to rub against Mick’s shoulder since she couldn’t do it without burning. Mick crackled a smile, chuckling deeply as she cackled like the good ol’ days.
Len looked between the kid dressed in red, the kid with the mop hair and the vacuum. It felt like something that needed to be addressed, but he kept his mouth shut as mop hair threatened the ice him with the vacuum with LEDs tapped to it. It was stupid, however the nickname was cute enough. Captain Cold, huh?
Even if Len couldn’t tell by looking that the “cold gun” was in fact a vacuum, Len’s hypersensitivity to the cold allowed him to see through it. If anything, it generated a hint of heat. The longer Len kept his cold a secret, the more useful it might become, especially with meta-humans infiltrating Central City.
When he got back to the warehouse, Len was surprised to see Lisa perched on the table, counting stacks of cash from a duffle bag.
“New York was successful then?”
“No,” Lisa didn’t look up, her eyes trained on Mr. Benjamin Franklin, “Topeka, Kansas was though.”
Len froze, the cold wafting around him tightly like an extra layer, but not quite the shield of ice yet. “What happened to New York?”
Lisa shrugged innocently, her foot bouncing against the leg of the table she was on. “Topeka had something I needed.”
“Something or someone?”
“Oh,” Lisa looked up, locking eyes with her brother, “are we actually going to talk about Mick?”
Len looked away, not caring at this point that he basically handed the power to Lisa. “There is nothing to talk about.”
“I think there is.”
“Too bad your opinion on the matter is null.”
“Okay, fine.” Lisa set her money aside and hopped off the table. Len watched her wearily. “Are you going to explain that?” She pointed to the toolbox that held the other gun, the heat gun, Mick’s gun.
“Couldn’t let it get into the wrong hands,” Len grumbled. That wasn’t exactly a lie, it was just a half-truth.
Lisa rolled her eyes. “Then destroy it. Right now, because he isn’t going to come here to get it if that’s what you are waiting for.”
Len sunk onto the couch, the diamond in his hands falling to the space beside him. “He might.” Len’s voice was small, tiny like a petulant child refusing the face the facts. He hated it, but Lisa only rolled her eyes.
“No, I talked to him,” Lisa crossed her arms. “He isn’t coming back on his own.”
Len picked up her wording. “But he’s waiting.”
Lisa’s eyes went wide and Len knew immediately. “I didn’t say that.”
“No,” Len agreed standing up with new found energy. Mick was waiting for him. Mick was pissed, but not enough to not want Len coming for him. That would be enough. “Looks like I need to make a trip to Topeka also.”
Lisa looked guilty but not enough for a smile to fill her lips. “Be nice.”
“I don’t plan to be anything but.”
Len ignored Lisa’s smirk as he went over and grabbed the toolbox with the heat gun.
Mick could sense Snart the minute he stepped foot into Topeka, his heat spiking as a honing signal to Snart's cold which responded with a faint chill wind despite the summer heat. Even with their two years apart and all the hurt feelings between them, Mick couldn't help the excitement that skirted up his back. As a way to combat this, Mick glued himself to one of the remaining good chairs and putting on a mask of indifference. Snart was going to have to work for it and prove he still wanted this . Mick pulled out a book of matches to keep his heat at bay. He wasn’t confident in his ability to stay away the minute he was faced directly with Len’s cold.
In the typical Snart fashion, he approached slowly and with caution. Mick could feel Len's cold drawing closer, slowly but surely. Mick's heat was steadily increasing the closer Len came. By the time Len reached the building, the low hum of his motorcycle dying outside the building, Mick was like a furnace. The wood of the furniture was sweating and warping from Mick's heat while the outside of the windows were being coated with thick layers of frost as Len's cold tried to get in. Neither of them could really control the draw their temperatures had for each other.
Mick could feel Snart climb the staircase purposefully. He could feel Snart stalk down the hall, hunting Mick down like a bloodhound, a heathound. When he reached the door, Mick watched frost and ice seeped through the crack of the door, crawling towards him and his heat. Len still waited for the silent go ahead.
Mick waited a full two minutes; drawing it out for as long as possible (he could be a dramatic piece of shit too). He knew Snart was patient, but not when he knew Mick was waiting on the other side of the door boiling up. He was silent, letting his cold reach out to Mick asking for permission to come in. When Mick responded with a heavy heat wave, Len's cold curled around Mick in a way all too intimate and familiar, almost like an embrace. Len seemed to realize it, withdrawing almost completely. Mick almost thought Len had changed his mind until he heard the rattling of the door handle.
Securing himself in as relaxed of a position as possible, Mick listened for the sound of the metal knob shattering like glass from Len's cold. Usually, Snart took the time to pick the lock. Mick understood the rushed move as his biological need speaking rather than his emotional one, although they were closely aligned. He stuck another match.
And there he was, after two years of separation, Leonard Snart stood before him, just like Mick remembered. Just as fucking beautiful as the last time they were together. Mick’s eyes were instantly drawn to the toolbox by his side.
Gifts were not uncommon in their make-ups. Mick's were always ego brushing, giving Snart the control he needed. It usually had to fit the crime of Mick's temper that got them into that mess. Mick gave experiences, memories, things to bring them closer.
Lenny's gifts were a little more all over the place. It could be anything from an engraved lighter of a recently iced mob boss to blow job on top of Central City's tallest skyscraper to letting Mick pick the goddamn movie for their Thursday night movie dates with Lisa. Usually, the gift matched the severity of the fuck-up Len created but it was always in an attempt to show Mick he cared and what really mattered.
Len closed the door behind him with a snap, finding the nearest wall to lean against. Mick rolled his eyes at the movement but kept his gaze focused on the flame, waiting for the carefully planned speech he knew Len had practiced on the ride from Central.
“I know it’s been a while since we pulled that job. I know it didn’t go so well for you.”
“And I know I said we were finished, but things have changed.”
Nothing has changed; we can’t quit each other, Mick.
“If I wanna keep working in Central City, I’m gonna need a new kind of crew.”
Let’s take Central City together.
“I’m gonna need someone like you.”
I need you back, Micky.
“You’re tolerant of extremes-”
You’re tolerant me.
“-you have certain skills. You just need some direction.”
It won’t be like before.
“And I can give that to you.”
If you give that to me.
Len flicked open the tool box and Mick’s eyes a lit, holding a burning match, than burning hand to it for light.
“You still like playing with fire?” Mick could hear the fucking smirk in his voice. “You’re going to love this.”
Please forgive me and let’s move on.
“So, are you in, Mick, or are you out?”
Mick chuckled deeply, remembering one of their first conversations to each other after the night in Gotham.
“Yeah, buddy, I’m in.”
As if no time had passed, Mick slammed the lid of the toolbox shut and grabbed Len. Normally, Len was more than annoyed with Mick’s tendency to man-handle him, but the second those scorched hands touched him, Len didn’t care. He grabbed Mick with equal fervor until there wasn’t even air between them. Mick pressed his burning cheek to Len’s ice head and Len buried his frozen face into Mick’s heated neck. Two years suddenly felt like only two minutes.
“You still got that ring, Snart?” Mick rumbled, his chest vibrate against Len’s.
Len smirked into his neck, knowing the underlying question. “It’s in Central.” Mick growled lowly. “You’re more than welcome to find it and put it back in its rightful place.”
Mick smiled like an idiot, lopsided and giddy, his hands find their way under Len’s long sleeve shirt. “It can wait a day. You still haven’t properly begged for forgiveness.”
Len rolled his eyes at the seductive tone Mick attempted to throw at him and went to retort but the words were shoved side by a blazing tongue. They kissed and Len forgot how much he missed the feeling of it, how much he missed the taste of Mick. Len was a touch-starved fool and Mick was the only remedy.
It ended far too soon in Len book, but Mick made up for it by moving to kiss and suck at his jaw and neck.
“You’ve been following me, Lenny. Don’t think I didn’t notice, keeping tabs like always.”
“You’re mine,” Len dragged his hands over Mick’s scalp and nudged them both backwards toward the bed. “Even when we are apart you are still mine.”
“That goes two ways, Snart,” Mick reminded heatedly as he fell back on to the bed. Len wasted no time in crawling on top of him.
“No taking control of me, from me,” Mick warned, his hands still moving under Len’s clothing, lower and lower as his voice grew fainter and fainter. “We are partners, even if we ain’t fucking-”
“Which we are,” Len purred, working on getting Mick aware from his clothing.
“Which we are,” Mick agreed. “I’m yours and your mine, but you don’t own me.” There was a difference, Mick needed to make that clear. He missed Len like crazy, like an addict. However, he wasn’t going to be told what to do, bossed around, treated as if he were below Len when they were equals.
“Of course,” Len kissed him soundly, pushing his tongue into Mick’s mouth, “partner.”
Mick smirked, pulling back despite Len’s growl of frustration. “You miss me, Lenny?”
Len rolled his eyes, bringing his mouth to Mick’s in lieu of an actual answer.
Mick got it either way. “Miss you too.”