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ajremixTitle: Here By Your Side
Fandom: DC TV
Rating: PG-13 for some swearing
Word Count: 803
Characters: Len , Mick
Summary: Before the final scene in episode 5. It's not the first time Mick's been hurt but Len doesn't take it any better.
"We actually gonna deal with this bullshit this time, Snart?"
Len didn't bother to look up from inspecting the cold cell from his weapon. "And what bullshit would that be?"
"The one that made you go running off the last time?"
He lifted his head just enough to look at his partner, the slant of his eyebrows somewhere between amused and annoyed were it not for the tension creasing the corners of his eyes. "As I haven't run off anywhere, I think you're just jumping to conclusions."
Mick grunted, stepping up to the table, voice rumbling out the back of his throat. "Right. 'Cause it can't possibly be you got nowhere to run to. Noticed you still avoiding everyone, though. 'Specially me."
"And what makes you say that?"
"Gideon, how long's Len been in here futzing with his cold gun?"
"Three hours and eleven minutes," came the prompt answer.
Len glanced coolly at the nearest wall. "Thank you for the surveillance check, Big Brother."
"So we doing this? Or you gonna deflect some more?"
"Despite the casual breech of privacy, that doesn't actually prove I'm avoiding anyone, Mick."
Hands slammed down on the table on either side of him, hard enough to rattle a screwdriver over the edge. But Len's eyelashes didn't flutter. Not at the growl hot against his scalp, not at the sleeves pushed up over bare forearms that caged his weapon.
"You know I don't give a fuck if everyone thinks I'm stupid," he could practically feel Mick biting the air between them, "but I ain't taking it from you. I've known you way too long for you to fucking act like I don't know you. Like I can't tell when you can't even fucking look at me."
Len slowly, defiantly, lifted his eyes to lock onto Mick's, daring him to make that claim again. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I'm talking about this," he lifted his arm, old burns and fresh bruises forced between them, not missing the way Len's eyes remained resolutely on his. "I'm talking about how you hate getting close to people because you're afraid they'll be used against you. 'Bout how much you hate being scared you double down on this 'Captain Cold' shit. And if that don't work, you cut out anything that makes you feel things you don't want to feel until you got your emotions locked down again."
His gaze hardened and Mick could tell the very moment he slipped the Cold persona on. "You ignored me for the boy scout."
"You were gonna leave him."
"I left him his suit. He had a way out."
"He took a beating for me. I repay my debts and we don't leave anyone behind. That's your rule, remember?"
There, in snarl between his words, Cold was already beginning to crack, "He was the reason you were there in the first place! If he hadn't turned that core back on- if he'd let that damn woman go-"
"And she got the drop on you. I watched it happen, Snart, don't try pushing all the blame on him."
"This is the second time he got you caught!"
A hand, hot and heavy, gripped the back of his head and Len hadn't realized he was on his feet, knuckles trembling against the table until Mick was pulling him in, bracing Len's forehead against his shoulder, bracing his own against Len's. "I'm alright, Lenny." Len bit his lip to keep from saying anything more incriminating. Mick's thumb rubbed over the skin behind his ear, in soothing little circles he so rarely allowed anyone to do. "I'm right here."
He closed his eyes, one hand wrapped tight on Mick's arm, against the familiar texture of burn scars, but he could still see the bruises on Mick's face. The cuts. The gun pressed against his head. When he'd seen the extent of Ray's injuries all Len could think of was that could've been Mick and his mind flashed back to that burning warehouse, hearing Mick laughing but unable to see him, unable to pull him out and Len couldn't breath-
Lips pressed against the side of his head, shockingly tender where his breathing was rattling in his ears. "I'm here. I promise, I'm here."
In a rare occurrence Len lost track of time, pressing his face against Mick's neck and drowning in the fact that he was right there. Eventually, nerves steadying and air no longer getting knotted in his throat, Len lifted his head enough that his lips brushed against the skin of Mick's neck, just above his collar. "You burn those guard coats yet?"
"Haven't had the chance."
"When you do, burn that coat I let Vostok wear. It still smells like her perfume."
He felt Mick smile against his neck. "You say the nicest things."
Fandom: DC TV
Rating: PG-13 for some swearing
Word Count: 803
Characters: Len , Mick
Summary: Before the final scene in episode 5. It's not the first time Mick's been hurt but Len doesn't take it any better.
"We actually gonna deal with this bullshit this time, Snart?"
Len didn't bother to look up from inspecting the cold cell from his weapon. "And what bullshit would that be?"
"The one that made you go running off the last time?"
He lifted his head just enough to look at his partner, the slant of his eyebrows somewhere between amused and annoyed were it not for the tension creasing the corners of his eyes. "As I haven't run off anywhere, I think you're just jumping to conclusions."
Mick grunted, stepping up to the table, voice rumbling out the back of his throat. "Right. 'Cause it can't possibly be you got nowhere to run to. Noticed you still avoiding everyone, though. 'Specially me."
"And what makes you say that?"
"Gideon, how long's Len been in here futzing with his cold gun?"
"Three hours and eleven minutes," came the prompt answer.
Len glanced coolly at the nearest wall. "Thank you for the surveillance check, Big Brother."
"So we doing this? Or you gonna deflect some more?"
"Despite the casual breech of privacy, that doesn't actually prove I'm avoiding anyone, Mick."
Hands slammed down on the table on either side of him, hard enough to rattle a screwdriver over the edge. But Len's eyelashes didn't flutter. Not at the growl hot against his scalp, not at the sleeves pushed up over bare forearms that caged his weapon.
"You know I don't give a fuck if everyone thinks I'm stupid," he could practically feel Mick biting the air between them, "but I ain't taking it from you. I've known you way too long for you to fucking act like I don't know you. Like I can't tell when you can't even fucking look at me."
Len slowly, defiantly, lifted his eyes to lock onto Mick's, daring him to make that claim again. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I'm talking about this," he lifted his arm, old burns and fresh bruises forced between them, not missing the way Len's eyes remained resolutely on his. "I'm talking about how you hate getting close to people because you're afraid they'll be used against you. 'Bout how much you hate being scared you double down on this 'Captain Cold' shit. And if that don't work, you cut out anything that makes you feel things you don't want to feel until you got your emotions locked down again."
His gaze hardened and Mick could tell the very moment he slipped the Cold persona on. "You ignored me for the boy scout."
"You were gonna leave him."
"I left him his suit. He had a way out."
"He took a beating for me. I repay my debts and we don't leave anyone behind. That's your rule, remember?"
There, in snarl between his words, Cold was already beginning to crack, "He was the reason you were there in the first place! If he hadn't turned that core back on- if he'd let that damn woman go-"
"And she got the drop on you. I watched it happen, Snart, don't try pushing all the blame on him."
"This is the second time he got you caught!"
A hand, hot and heavy, gripped the back of his head and Len hadn't realized he was on his feet, knuckles trembling against the table until Mick was pulling him in, bracing Len's forehead against his shoulder, bracing his own against Len's. "I'm alright, Lenny." Len bit his lip to keep from saying anything more incriminating. Mick's thumb rubbed over the skin behind his ear, in soothing little circles he so rarely allowed anyone to do. "I'm right here."
He closed his eyes, one hand wrapped tight on Mick's arm, against the familiar texture of burn scars, but he could still see the bruises on Mick's face. The cuts. The gun pressed against his head. When he'd seen the extent of Ray's injuries all Len could think of was that could've been Mick and his mind flashed back to that burning warehouse, hearing Mick laughing but unable to see him, unable to pull him out and Len couldn't breath-
Lips pressed against the side of his head, shockingly tender where his breathing was rattling in his ears. "I'm here. I promise, I'm here."
In a rare occurrence Len lost track of time, pressing his face against Mick's neck and drowning in the fact that he was right there. Eventually, nerves steadying and air no longer getting knotted in his throat, Len lifted his head enough that his lips brushed against the skin of Mick's neck, just above his collar. "You burn those guard coats yet?"
"Haven't had the chance."
"When you do, burn that coat I let Vostok wear. It still smells like her perfume."
He felt Mick smile against his neck. "You say the nicest things."
