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ajremixNormally I would be very excited about this kind of development. Unfortunately the writing for this show has not been impressive so I'm basically in wait to see what exactly will happen.
Title: And You'd Never Guess You Were In So Deep
Fandom: DC TV
Rating: PG-13, also brief non-descriptive animal cruelty
Word Count: 561
Characters: Mick, Len
Summary: Spoilers for episode 9. Len and Mick handle their separation very differently.
"Cause the flower of love growing in your heart
Will eventually tear your world apart"
-Robyn Hitchcock and the Egyptians, "The Moon Inside"
Len kept the heat gun. Of course he did. There was no telling what damage Mick could've gotten into before he could figure out a way back to his partner. Rip suggested keeping it in the armory but Len told him to fuck off. It was Mick's most treasured possession and, by rights no one bothered to argue with, that made it Len's.
~*~*~*~
It's dark and cold and there's nothing here. He has nothing, left alone in God knows where. Mick rages because anger is the only thing his partner left him. After he's done screaming hate into the sky he burns the forest down. Because even though he has nothing he can still do that.
"Might've took my gun, Snart," he growls at the baby flame he nurses into an inferno, "can't take my fire."
~*~*~*~
During the sleepless nights- and Len often had sleepless nights -he'd turn the weapon over in his hands. Remembering where each scratch and ding came from. The incredible focus on Mick's face as maintained it. The way he held it during a fight or because he just felt like holding it. The way he treated it like it was his only other friend.
The way he smiled.
~*~*~*~
He loses track of days. Of time. That had never been his job. That was Lenny's. And ever since he left everything just blurs together. The only things Mick has to mark are the highs and lows- wrath and exhaustion -until even those start getting fuzzy on the edges.
Len had been the one to balance him. To remind him to sleep. To smooth over his spikes of aggression. To keep him from digging too deep when everything spiraled away.
But he isn't here anymore. Too caught up in playing hero and tossing Mick aside when he wouldn't play along. Turned Mick into this. After thirty years of having his back and putting up with his shit, this is how the punk repays him.
He slams a rock into another rock because it sparks in his grip. He can't feel the rumble of his own voice anymore or even if thoughts are still flashing through his brain. "Hope you're fucking proud of yourself."
~*~*~*~
The heat gun gleamed in the low light of his room. Just as well maintained as the day he left Mick.
~*~*~*~
His hands shake too much to light anymore fires. He claws at the dirt because it's the only kind destruction he has the strength left for anymore. Everything hurts and everything's numb.
He doesn't remember the last time he's moved and eventually a tiny mouse creeps up to him. Mick doesn't know how he does it but he grabs it and he squeezes because its warm and it's struggling and it's making terrified noises that pierce through the empty fog in his head.
Eventually it stops moving and the blood on his hand cools and as he stares at the tiny body, Mick finds himself thinking of Len.
~*~*~*~
"I'm coming back for you," he promised it. "No matter what."
~*~*~*~
Boots are by his head and Mick rolls his eyes upward to look at whoever it is. In some far away place in his brain he recognizes the armor and helmet and knows that they're holding a gun. He closes his eyes and sighs, quietly accepting whatever happens.
Title: And You'd Never Guess You Were In So Deep
Fandom: DC TV
Rating: PG-13, also brief non-descriptive animal cruelty
Word Count: 561
Characters: Mick, Len
Summary: Spoilers for episode 9. Len and Mick handle their separation very differently.
"Cause the flower of love growing in your heart
Will eventually tear your world apart"
-Robyn Hitchcock and the Egyptians, "The Moon Inside"
Len kept the heat gun. Of course he did. There was no telling what damage Mick could've gotten into before he could figure out a way back to his partner. Rip suggested keeping it in the armory but Len told him to fuck off. It was Mick's most treasured possession and, by rights no one bothered to argue with, that made it Len's.
~*~*~*~
It's dark and cold and there's nothing here. He has nothing, left alone in God knows where. Mick rages because anger is the only thing his partner left him. After he's done screaming hate into the sky he burns the forest down. Because even though he has nothing he can still do that.
"Might've took my gun, Snart," he growls at the baby flame he nurses into an inferno, "can't take my fire."
~*~*~*~
During the sleepless nights- and Len often had sleepless nights -he'd turn the weapon over in his hands. Remembering where each scratch and ding came from. The incredible focus on Mick's face as maintained it. The way he held it during a fight or because he just felt like holding it. The way he treated it like it was his only other friend.
The way he smiled.
~*~*~*~
He loses track of days. Of time. That had never been his job. That was Lenny's. And ever since he left everything just blurs together. The only things Mick has to mark are the highs and lows- wrath and exhaustion -until even those start getting fuzzy on the edges.
Len had been the one to balance him. To remind him to sleep. To smooth over his spikes of aggression. To keep him from digging too deep when everything spiraled away.
But he isn't here anymore. Too caught up in playing hero and tossing Mick aside when he wouldn't play along. Turned Mick into this. After thirty years of having his back and putting up with his shit, this is how the punk repays him.
He slams a rock into another rock because it sparks in his grip. He can't feel the rumble of his own voice anymore or even if thoughts are still flashing through his brain. "Hope you're fucking proud of yourself."
~*~*~*~
The heat gun gleamed in the low light of his room. Just as well maintained as the day he left Mick.
~*~*~*~
His hands shake too much to light anymore fires. He claws at the dirt because it's the only kind destruction he has the strength left for anymore. Everything hurts and everything's numb.
He doesn't remember the last time he's moved and eventually a tiny mouse creeps up to him. Mick doesn't know how he does it but he grabs it and he squeezes because its warm and it's struggling and it's making terrified noises that pierce through the empty fog in his head.
Eventually it stops moving and the blood on his hand cools and as he stares at the tiny body, Mick finds himself thinking of Len.
~*~*~*~
"I'm coming back for you," he promised it. "No matter what."
~*~*~*~
Boots are by his head and Mick rolls his eyes upward to look at whoever it is. In some far away place in his brain he recognizes the armor and helmet and knows that they're holding a gun. He closes his eyes and sighs, quietly accepting whatever happens.
