StraightOuttaArrows

one more look and I forget everything

OH OH

MAMMA MIA

H E R E I G O A G A I N

MY MY

HOW COULD I

Thanos knows

like

Lisa Snart, Golden Glider, Bronze-winning figure skater (Winter Olympics, 1992), is doubled over with laughter. And still perfectly balanced on one foot. 

Her brother is dragging himself along the wall at the side of the rink. He’s just picked himself up from the ice, which took four attempts, after making the mistake of letting go.

“Every time,” she chokes out. 

“I’m glad you think this is funny, sis,” he yells over to her. And, aww, he’s doing his dangerous face, like he thinks he’s making a dramatic impression on anyone. 

Oh, sure - Lenny likes to think he’s the badass of the Snart family, but she’s been watching him wobbling against skating rink walls since he was 15. 

(Also, Lenny’s not the Snart who knows what you can do to someone with an ice skate. Not every day, of course. Just when you need to.)

“It’s fine,” he sulks. “I’m in my element.” He grins, clearly expecting a reaction for that one. She does a Salchow jump to spite him, spinning in the air and sticking her tongue out at him. She lands flawlessly, then half-collapses in giggles once more, watching as he again attempts to let go. It doesn’t go so well for him. 

Yeah, the big bad Rogue’s not fooling her. Or the eight-year-olds in hockey gear who snerk at him as they sail past, waving.

A bit later, over hot dogs in the ice rink cafe, she asks, “Why do you still come?” They’re looking down over Central’s skating public. It’s quiet down there on this Thursday afternoon, but she can see an older couple who must be retired figure skaters, and a family whose small children are gliding over the ice with significantly more skill than her doofus brother.

He tilts his head at her, half-smiling. “Never gonna get any better if I don’t practice.”

She laughs, bumping his shoulder with her own. “Lenny. You’re 42. I hate to break it to you, but you’re not going to the Olympics this lifetime. Or even staying upright for more than a minute. Give it up.” 

Her brother shrugs. “You started asking if I want to join you. I’m not gonna not,” he murmurs, and ducks his head, apparently finding his beer very interesting all of a sudden.

She’s hit by a memory, from nowhere. 1992. All year, she’d trained like her life depended on it. (Sometimes, on her rarer dark days when she lets herself remember, she thinks maybe it did.) But it didn’t matter how hard she worked - she knew she wasn’t really going to Albertville. 

Then one day Lenny appeared with the money she needed, and she didn’t ask where it came from. 

She’d gone alone, her first time out of the country, crossing France on a bus full of mean rich kids whose parents and girlfriends and boyfriends would all be waving banners and flags when they got onto the ice. She was just happy her dad was in prison and couldn’t stop her from going. And Lenny - well, he was a wanted man by then. It was okay.

As they lowered the medal over her pounding heart and she reached for it with shaking hands, she finally looked up. There he was, out in the crowd, beaming at her with the kind of pride she didn’t know anyone could feel for her.

She knew better than ever to talk about it. But… There he was.

She blinks, and slurps up chocolate froth, grinning at him over the straw of her milkshake. “All the same. Next time, just sit in the seats, okay? You can have a beer and pretend you’re actually enjoying yourself.”

“I can’t believe you’re giving up on me,” he drawls, his eyes sparkling.