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ajremixTitle from S.E.S.'s Remember (English ver).
Title: I Hope that You Remember
Fandom: DCU
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1903
In Responds to: ColdWave Week 2018: I've Never Been Tight with Anyone
Characters: Mick, Len, Mark, McCulloch, Kadabra
Summary: Shortly after their forced incarceration on the prison planet Salvation, Cold is forced to deal with some unresolved issues regarding Mick.
Cold hated this planet. Not just because he was forced there against his will by sanctimonious heroes and unscrupulous government officials with no way back to Earth and no supplies. Not just because this 'peaceful' planet was actually a death trap- which explained why said unscrupulous officials allowed the Rogues their weapons despite their claims of it being peaceful. No, it was a fucking jungle on top of all that, humid enough that Cold could feel sweat gathering in his ass crack. He hated sweating on a normal basis but at that point he was seriously considering letting one of those nasty critters put him out of his misery. He couldn't even adjust his cold gun to release an ambient chill because who knew how often he'd be able to recharge it.
Everyone was irritable and miserable. Even Mick who normally loved the kind of oppressive heat they'd found themselves in though he mainly complained about having left the 'safe' area that they'd been transported to. Never mind the fact they'd been attacked on their second day in that same area. It was especially annoying when Mick complained because, while he didn't often get cold feet, when he did he let the others know about it. Often. Which meant McCulloch would snip at him about it and their combined nattering would snap Mark's patience. Add Kadabra's pompous attitude and Cold was ready to freeze all five of them and end everyone's problems.
Every day for the four days they'd been on this planet it had basically been fight after fight. They were all exhausted from battling, from the weather and being unable to just relax for a moment. Cold was checking his weapon after they'd finished putting down another pack of half-sized spear wielding humanoids. One of them had gotten a good crack on the cold gun though thankfully it didn't seem like anything had actually been damaged.
The ground suddenly gave way underneath him and, with a strangled noise, Cold fell into darkness. It wasn't the worst fall he ever had but the shock of it sent him sprawling, cold gun jolted out of his grasp. He heard his name called out from above but before he could respond, something was on him. It was heavy, the thick, rough hide of it tugging at his parka and gloves as Cold tried to fend it off. It let out a sound, something between a gurgle and a hiss, and Cold barely got his arm away before it got caught in its jaws. The light from above was just enough for him to see things jutting out from its skin, smooth bone or maybe horn, big enough for him to grab onto to keep the beast from pinning him.
The light blotted out momentarily before something rammed into the creature's side, knocking it out of Cold's grasp. It rolled onto its feet, seeming to shy away as light and heat filled the small cave, courtesy of Mick's heat gun. "Can you reach the hole?" Mick asked, not taking his eyes off the beast as it dithered between attack and retreat.
Cold looked up, the hole was only a couple feet above Mick's head. He could make it if he jumped and the other three were peering in, ready to reach down. Cold got to his feet and Mick shifted his stance so Cold could boost himself using Mick's thigh. He grabbed the edge of the hole, heaving himself out. Mark and McCulloch grabbed at his arms and Cold was halfway out when he heard the creature growl again. "Mick!" He called out, even as Mark rolled him out of the hole.
The hole lit up with fire and heat and a long, agonized scream like glass grinding together. The fire died down and smoke billowed up from the hole, followed by the stench of charred flesh. "Mick!" Cold called out again, throwing off Mark's hands.
A gloved hand came out of the hole, gripping a still smoking heat gun. Another hand came up and the other Rogues backed away slightly. They knew heat could still linger something fierce on Mick's suit. With a grunt, Mick heaved himself onto the ground, the skin around his nose, mouth and chin red from heat exposure. He looked at Cold and asked, "You okay?"
"The hell were you thinking, jumping in like that?" Cold snapped at him.
The softness around Mick's eyes hardened behind his goggles and his mouth cinched tight. "You're welcome," he said coldly. He reached into his holster to pull out and toss Cold's lost cold gun back at him.
"I didn't ask you to do that!" Cold growled, picking his weapon back up and holstering it.
"You looked like you were having so much fun rolling on the ground," Mick bit back, brushing off the ash from his suit, "I couldn't help joining in."
"Gentlemen," Kadabra snapped out the word like he was using it under duress, "if you'd like to have your little tiff at a later time? Between the smell of cooked flesh and your shouting, we've likely caught some other creature's attention."
"Speaking of," McCulloch said, peering back down the hole. "'S probably just 'cause we haven't had anything but plants since we got here, but that smells fucking delicious." Everyone paused, not quite wanting to agree with that. "Should we bring it up for dinner?"
The silence stretched further until Mark said, "Let's get it quick. We should move before something comes investigating."
"Shouldn't have left the safe zone," Mick grumbled.
"Shut the fuck up," Cold told him.
~*~*~*~
After stopping for the night- the creature tasting far better than it looked -Cold doled out watch assignments and wouldn't hear any griping or pleas to change it. Especially from Mick.
"What are you complaining about?" Cold snapped, getting ready for the first shift. "You don't have watch tonight!"
"I didn't get hurt back there, I can pull my weight just fine!"
McCulloch groaned and lay back on the ground, hands covering his face. "I was gonna complain but I dinnae care anymore." He flopped over, back to the fire, and gave a very firm, "Good night," to the group at large.
Seeing as McCulloch had the next shift and was extremely unpleasant when exhausted, Mick quietly yet resentfully accepted the order, getting comfortable in his own patch of dirt. Cold faced the darkness, arms crossed and fire warm at his back.
He waited- well, he didn't really know how long he waited. The moon slide a fair amount of distance in the sky and Cold could only assume time passed equivalently to Earth's. He turned back to the fire, expecting everyone else to be asleep. Mick was awake, watching him. Cold cursed to himself. "What?" He asked, gruff but quiet.
"Are we gonna talk about whatever your issue is?" Mick asked, propping himself up on an elbow. His cowl and goggles were pulled back. Even by the light of the fire between them, Cold could see the line of dirt separating the parts of Mick's face that had been uncovered.
"What issue?"
"That fact that you suddenly don't trust me to so much as go piss by myself?"
Cold's gaze remained passive and cool, even though he was wincing inside for having been caught. "What're you on about?"
"You've been acting like I don't know how to handle myself in a fight. Like today, you were snapping at me for helping you out. What, did you think a little fire was going to hurt me?" Mick asked. "When has my suit ever failed me?"
Cold glared at him. After a long moment he said, "Gambi told me you had him send you your spare suit when you were with Cadmus." He didn't care that he'd just given away the fact he'd kept tabs on Mick during his reformation period. Something had managed to melt through the back of that suit once, who knew what might do it again.
"Oh." Mick paused, looking a little guilty as if he'd been caught keeping a secret. "Well, you know I know how much my suit can take. I'm not going to intentionally damage it."
"You might not." Not like there weren't other ways to damage it, either. Gambi, bless the man, had the foresight to make each of their outfits fairly resistant to each other's skillsets. Mick's suit, like any of the other's, could withstand tornadoes and glass shards and sub-zero temperatures. That didn't make it impossible for any of the planet's strange inhabitants from getting through, just incredibly difficult.
"But why is it me?" Mick asked. "McCulloch damn near got eviscerated in our first encounter but you don't go biting his head off whenever he moves away from the group."
"For fuck's sake!" Mark suddenly cried sitting upright. "Just admit that you were worried he managed to hurt himself saving your ass and you're mad you had feelings for all of two seconds so the rest of us can get some sleep!" McCulloch and Kadabra glared at Cold and Mick, grumbling in agreement.
Cold glared at him in part so he wouldn't have to look at Mick looking at him in surprise. "Really?"
"He'd been a right hard arse since he heard you were playing for the angels," McCulloch added. "When you hooked up with Jesse's crew, Cold took it like a personal insult."
"He missed you and is too proud to admit it. Even I know that, and I try not to be around you lot whenever possible. Now can we please have some peace?" Kadraba said, his cloak pulled over his head in a poor attempt to stifle all the noise.
"Fine, whatever, get the fuck back to sleep!" Cold snapped, trying to ignore the heat of his cheeks. He glared until the three turned over, grumpily trying to catch what sleep they could. Mick was still watching him.
"Len-"
Cold abruptly stood, stomping- quietly -around the fire and dropped himself back down next to Mick, looking as petulant and defiant as possible given the situation. "Don't need those assholes butting in again."
Mick's lips quirked into a little grin. "Is that all it is?" Cold glared and Mick chuckled quietly. "Sorry."
"Look," Cold started, then fell silent for a long moment. Eventually, unable to come up with something better and embarrassed he was saying it at all, he admitted sullenly, "I missed you."
What he meant was he was afraid he'd lost Mick to the capes and the suits. Without Mick's goggles on, Cold could see the way Mick's eyes softened, hearing what wasn't said. Cold's shoulders relaxed. "Missed you, too," Mick said, scooting in a little closer to Cold. "It was exhausting having to continually justify myself to heroes. You guys just took me as I am."
"Well. Good. Glad you learned your lesson." Cold looked around furtively, in case one of the others were still awake or someone was spying on them. Then he leaned over and gave Mick a quick, rough kiss. When Cold pulled back, Mick gave chase for a half second before moving back himself, looking at Cold in shock- neither had ever dared attempt physical affection when any other Rogues or villains were around. The move made Cold feel bold and foolishly giddy. He cleared his throat and told Mick, "Get some sleep."
"Yeah," Mick said, sounding a little shellshocked. "Night, Len."
"Night."
Title: I Hope that You Remember
Fandom: DCU
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1903
In Responds to: ColdWave Week 2018: I've Never Been Tight with Anyone
Characters: Mick, Len, Mark, McCulloch, Kadabra
Summary: Shortly after their forced incarceration on the prison planet Salvation, Cold is forced to deal with some unresolved issues regarding Mick.
Cold hated this planet. Not just because he was forced there against his will by sanctimonious heroes and unscrupulous government officials with no way back to Earth and no supplies. Not just because this 'peaceful' planet was actually a death trap- which explained why said unscrupulous officials allowed the Rogues their weapons despite their claims of it being peaceful. No, it was a fucking jungle on top of all that, humid enough that Cold could feel sweat gathering in his ass crack. He hated sweating on a normal basis but at that point he was seriously considering letting one of those nasty critters put him out of his misery. He couldn't even adjust his cold gun to release an ambient chill because who knew how often he'd be able to recharge it.
Everyone was irritable and miserable. Even Mick who normally loved the kind of oppressive heat they'd found themselves in though he mainly complained about having left the 'safe' area that they'd been transported to. Never mind the fact they'd been attacked on their second day in that same area. It was especially annoying when Mick complained because, while he didn't often get cold feet, when he did he let the others know about it. Often. Which meant McCulloch would snip at him about it and their combined nattering would snap Mark's patience. Add Kadabra's pompous attitude and Cold was ready to freeze all five of them and end everyone's problems.
Every day for the four days they'd been on this planet it had basically been fight after fight. They were all exhausted from battling, from the weather and being unable to just relax for a moment. Cold was checking his weapon after they'd finished putting down another pack of half-sized spear wielding humanoids. One of them had gotten a good crack on the cold gun though thankfully it didn't seem like anything had actually been damaged.
The ground suddenly gave way underneath him and, with a strangled noise, Cold fell into darkness. It wasn't the worst fall he ever had but the shock of it sent him sprawling, cold gun jolted out of his grasp. He heard his name called out from above but before he could respond, something was on him. It was heavy, the thick, rough hide of it tugging at his parka and gloves as Cold tried to fend it off. It let out a sound, something between a gurgle and a hiss, and Cold barely got his arm away before it got caught in its jaws. The light from above was just enough for him to see things jutting out from its skin, smooth bone or maybe horn, big enough for him to grab onto to keep the beast from pinning him.
The light blotted out momentarily before something rammed into the creature's side, knocking it out of Cold's grasp. It rolled onto its feet, seeming to shy away as light and heat filled the small cave, courtesy of Mick's heat gun. "Can you reach the hole?" Mick asked, not taking his eyes off the beast as it dithered between attack and retreat.
Cold looked up, the hole was only a couple feet above Mick's head. He could make it if he jumped and the other three were peering in, ready to reach down. Cold got to his feet and Mick shifted his stance so Cold could boost himself using Mick's thigh. He grabbed the edge of the hole, heaving himself out. Mark and McCulloch grabbed at his arms and Cold was halfway out when he heard the creature growl again. "Mick!" He called out, even as Mark rolled him out of the hole.
The hole lit up with fire and heat and a long, agonized scream like glass grinding together. The fire died down and smoke billowed up from the hole, followed by the stench of charred flesh. "Mick!" Cold called out again, throwing off Mark's hands.
A gloved hand came out of the hole, gripping a still smoking heat gun. Another hand came up and the other Rogues backed away slightly. They knew heat could still linger something fierce on Mick's suit. With a grunt, Mick heaved himself onto the ground, the skin around his nose, mouth and chin red from heat exposure. He looked at Cold and asked, "You okay?"
"The hell were you thinking, jumping in like that?" Cold snapped at him.
The softness around Mick's eyes hardened behind his goggles and his mouth cinched tight. "You're welcome," he said coldly. He reached into his holster to pull out and toss Cold's lost cold gun back at him.
"I didn't ask you to do that!" Cold growled, picking his weapon back up and holstering it.
"You looked like you were having so much fun rolling on the ground," Mick bit back, brushing off the ash from his suit, "I couldn't help joining in."
"Gentlemen," Kadabra snapped out the word like he was using it under duress, "if you'd like to have your little tiff at a later time? Between the smell of cooked flesh and your shouting, we've likely caught some other creature's attention."
"Speaking of," McCulloch said, peering back down the hole. "'S probably just 'cause we haven't had anything but plants since we got here, but that smells fucking delicious." Everyone paused, not quite wanting to agree with that. "Should we bring it up for dinner?"
The silence stretched further until Mark said, "Let's get it quick. We should move before something comes investigating."
"Shouldn't have left the safe zone," Mick grumbled.
"Shut the fuck up," Cold told him.
~*~*~*~
After stopping for the night- the creature tasting far better than it looked -Cold doled out watch assignments and wouldn't hear any griping or pleas to change it. Especially from Mick.
"What are you complaining about?" Cold snapped, getting ready for the first shift. "You don't have watch tonight!"
"I didn't get hurt back there, I can pull my weight just fine!"
McCulloch groaned and lay back on the ground, hands covering his face. "I was gonna complain but I dinnae care anymore." He flopped over, back to the fire, and gave a very firm, "Good night," to the group at large.
Seeing as McCulloch had the next shift and was extremely unpleasant when exhausted, Mick quietly yet resentfully accepted the order, getting comfortable in his own patch of dirt. Cold faced the darkness, arms crossed and fire warm at his back.
He waited- well, he didn't really know how long he waited. The moon slide a fair amount of distance in the sky and Cold could only assume time passed equivalently to Earth's. He turned back to the fire, expecting everyone else to be asleep. Mick was awake, watching him. Cold cursed to himself. "What?" He asked, gruff but quiet.
"Are we gonna talk about whatever your issue is?" Mick asked, propping himself up on an elbow. His cowl and goggles were pulled back. Even by the light of the fire between them, Cold could see the line of dirt separating the parts of Mick's face that had been uncovered.
"What issue?"
"That fact that you suddenly don't trust me to so much as go piss by myself?"
Cold's gaze remained passive and cool, even though he was wincing inside for having been caught. "What're you on about?"
"You've been acting like I don't know how to handle myself in a fight. Like today, you were snapping at me for helping you out. What, did you think a little fire was going to hurt me?" Mick asked. "When has my suit ever failed me?"
Cold glared at him. After a long moment he said, "Gambi told me you had him send you your spare suit when you were with Cadmus." He didn't care that he'd just given away the fact he'd kept tabs on Mick during his reformation period. Something had managed to melt through the back of that suit once, who knew what might do it again.
"Oh." Mick paused, looking a little guilty as if he'd been caught keeping a secret. "Well, you know I know how much my suit can take. I'm not going to intentionally damage it."
"You might not." Not like there weren't other ways to damage it, either. Gambi, bless the man, had the foresight to make each of their outfits fairly resistant to each other's skillsets. Mick's suit, like any of the other's, could withstand tornadoes and glass shards and sub-zero temperatures. That didn't make it impossible for any of the planet's strange inhabitants from getting through, just incredibly difficult.
"But why is it me?" Mick asked. "McCulloch damn near got eviscerated in our first encounter but you don't go biting his head off whenever he moves away from the group."
"For fuck's sake!" Mark suddenly cried sitting upright. "Just admit that you were worried he managed to hurt himself saving your ass and you're mad you had feelings for all of two seconds so the rest of us can get some sleep!" McCulloch and Kadabra glared at Cold and Mick, grumbling in agreement.
Cold glared at him in part so he wouldn't have to look at Mick looking at him in surprise. "Really?"
"He'd been a right hard arse since he heard you were playing for the angels," McCulloch added. "When you hooked up with Jesse's crew, Cold took it like a personal insult."
"He missed you and is too proud to admit it. Even I know that, and I try not to be around you lot whenever possible. Now can we please have some peace?" Kadraba said, his cloak pulled over his head in a poor attempt to stifle all the noise.
"Fine, whatever, get the fuck back to sleep!" Cold snapped, trying to ignore the heat of his cheeks. He glared until the three turned over, grumpily trying to catch what sleep they could. Mick was still watching him.
"Len-"
Cold abruptly stood, stomping- quietly -around the fire and dropped himself back down next to Mick, looking as petulant and defiant as possible given the situation. "Don't need those assholes butting in again."
Mick's lips quirked into a little grin. "Is that all it is?" Cold glared and Mick chuckled quietly. "Sorry."
"Look," Cold started, then fell silent for a long moment. Eventually, unable to come up with something better and embarrassed he was saying it at all, he admitted sullenly, "I missed you."
What he meant was he was afraid he'd lost Mick to the capes and the suits. Without Mick's goggles on, Cold could see the way Mick's eyes softened, hearing what wasn't said. Cold's shoulders relaxed. "Missed you, too," Mick said, scooting in a little closer to Cold. "It was exhausting having to continually justify myself to heroes. You guys just took me as I am."
"Well. Good. Glad you learned your lesson." Cold looked around furtively, in case one of the others were still awake or someone was spying on them. Then he leaned over and gave Mick a quick, rough kiss. When Cold pulled back, Mick gave chase for a half second before moving back himself, looking at Cold in shock- neither had ever dared attempt physical affection when any other Rogues or villains were around. The move made Cold feel bold and foolishly giddy. He cleared his throat and told Mick, "Get some sleep."
"Yeah," Mick said, sounding a little shellshocked. "Night, Len."
"Night."
