#coldflashbb2016

2

  It took Barry a few passes to realize why his dining room table looked different from before.  Sitting on it was a strange mug he’d never seen before with a short note inside of it.  The mug seemed oddly plain, but its appearance had all the hallmarks of Leonard Snart breaking in again, so there had to be some pun to it somewhere.

  Before he took a closer look, he decided to search his cupboards. Knowing Captain Cold, he was sure at least one of his mugs was now missing.  But after some frantic searching, he couldn’t find an empty space that usually held a mug.

  Giving up for now, he decided to quickly pull the note out to read with his drink before rinsing his newly acquired mug out to make a cup of coffee in it.  He hoped whatever strange pun Leonard had gotten it for would reveal itself with a hot beverage.

  This time he struck lucky, although he’d never seen this particular type of technology in a mug before.  Nothing happened as he added the coffee powder, milk and sugar to the mug, but as he filled it with hot water a flurry of video realistic snowflakes began creeping up the outside.  By the time it was full little sparks of fake lightning had begun dancing between the snowflakes.

  After he’d watched the interesting display for a minute or so, he put the cup back down, wanting to let the coffee cool a little before drinking i  He picked up the short note.

  “Decided to try this good guy thing you’ve been yammering on about, Allen.  Still stealing stuff though.  Greetings from the year 2157.  PS: Don’t forget to wash it when you’re done.”

  Barry giggled slightly through most of the message, before a frown of confusion crossed his face at the seeming randomness of the last comment.

  Suddenly, his eyes widened as he quickly stood up and raced over to the kitchen sink.  As he looked over the tray full of clean dishes, he remembered that he’d actually been in too much of a rush that morning, he’d planned on doing the washing up when he’d gotten back, the dishes should have all been in the sink.

  Missing from the now clean dishes was the mug he’d blearily grabbed that morning, a two dollar monstrosity that Cisco had jokingly gifted to him.  On one side had been a cartoon depiction of him running with “The Flash” printed underneath it, pretty normal here in Central City.  The other side, however, had a cartoon depiction of him in his flash gear with a trench coat over the top, and underneath that picture the words ‘The Flasher” showed up.

  Barry groaned, he just knew Leonard would be sitting in that damn Timeship Doctor Stein had mentioned, holding his stolen mug with a smug little grin on his face.

  Stein had made it quite clear who he’d be travelling with after all.

3

  It took Barry a while to notice Leonard sitting in the corner of his lounge room.  The other man seemed rather morose, seated next to a lamp he hadn’t bothered to turn on, sipping from a mug of something that - according to Barry’s nose - contained a good dose of booze, though not enough to get the older man more than mildly drunk.

  However it seemed like Len was going to pretend like it was hitting him harder so he could open up about something and blame it on the alcohol later on.  If it wasn’t for Barry’s ability to process every little clue at the speed of sound, he might have believed it as well.

  He waited patiently as Len took a few more slow mouthfuls of his coffee.  Being quiet until the other man finally piped up.  “I’m jealous of Palmer.”

  Barry blinked… of all the possible statements he’d expected from Leonard Snart, being jealous of Ray wasn’t one of them.  Holding back his usual smartass comeback, he simply nodded for the other man to continue.

  Len glared up at him for a second.  “Ever since Russia, Mick’s been acting super protective of Palmer…. And he won’t even give me the full story…. One minute they’re getting on each others nerves, the next Mick’s snarling at anyone who has a go at the bloody boy scout.”

  Barry hummed in agreement, gesturing for Len to continue.  “Mick even threatened to set Stein on fire when he mentioned not remembering Ray from his lectures again.  How do you even threaten fire at a guy who is literally on fire half the time anyway?  It is Mick though, he once threatened the Great Fire of London, with more fire, he was drunk at the time…. Shut up.”  Barry hadn’t even opened his mouth yet.  “Time travel is complicated shit, Allen.”

  Len gulped the last of his alcohol-laced coffee down.  “Thing is, it’s not like I hate Palmer either, don’t get me wrong.  I tried fucking hard, but the little bastard’s kind of like your dumb ass.  Too damn nice for his own good.  Too damn cute for his own good.   You’re both just too damn everything for your own good.  Me and Mick really need to get over our fondness for clueless, cute things.”

  Barry blinked as he processed the last few sentences.  Finally he was curious enough to ask a question.

  Alas, as he opened his mouth, a soft snore escaped from the direction of the chair.  Apparently both Barry and Leonard had slightly miscalculated the amount of alcohol the normally self-contained Captain Cold had drunk. The older man was fast asleep in his seat.

  Barry sighed. He wasn’t cruel enough to awaken the obviously tired man, but he knew his question wouldn’t be answered in the morning; the man would be gone by then, along with another of his favourite mugs.

  Going to his linen closet, he dragged a blanket out.  He quickly removed the empty mug from Len’s now limp hands before spreading the blanket over him.

  He’d figure out what Cold had meant by cute and clueless another time.

4.

  Barry stared at the broken mug that he’d seen sitting on his coffee table after he’d slowly entered his apartment.  It had been easy to tell which one it was, a little dollar store mug with a picture of Heatwave that Cisco had bought on a whim…. a little joke between them about how even the Flash’s enemies ended up on merchandise.

  There had been a backlog of forensic work at the precinct that day - one that Barry knew he had to hold back on using his speed for, in case someone suspected something - although he couldn’t shake the idea the Captain Singh already knew it all.  The backlog meant that Barry didn’t make it home until late in the evening.

  However, the shattered pieces of the mug that Len had obviously smashed onto the ground, then, for some reason, had attempted to clumsily glue back together, gave Barry the feeling the other man wasn’t really looking for company that night.  Instead it seemed like he’d simply gone to one of the few places where he felt remotely comfortable.  Barry was still surprised that his place had become something like that for Len.

  Eyeing the area around and on the table, he made sure to check for any sign Len had injured himself while trying to pick up the pieces of broken ceramic.  There was no blood that he could see, but the occasional droplets of drying liquid, told of a more internal type of pain Barry knew the remnants of drying tears when he saw them leading away from the table.  Len had been crying.  And as far as Barry could tell, it had something to do with Mick Rory.  

  It wasn’t a crack Len wanted to fix, Barry thought, as he began sorting out the pile of debris the mug had become.  It was obvious Len was trying fix something besides the mug he’d shattered.  It was just as obvious he didn’t really know how to fix either.

  Barry stared at the partially glued mug and the pieces he’d sorted out beside it.  It wouldn’t be that much of a chore - he could probably have it together in under a second - although it would probably break again in a day, considering Len had used some of the pretty cheap super glue Barry kept in his house.

  “It would be such an easy fix,”  he thought as he continued staring at the mug.  “Easy to fix or even just replace, it was only a dollar.”  Instead, he went over to the drawer and pulled out some masking tape.  He marked out a good sized workspace that wouldn’t interfere with his mealtimes,  also known as “stuff as much food as possible down his throat in order to properly function for the day” times.

  The place marked out, he headed back over to where his bag was.  It looked like there was one more thing he needed to do.

  There was a 24 hour arts and crafts store not far from where he lived.  He could probably get there in 2 or3 seconds.  Instead he spoke out loud.  “Just need to grab some waterproof, non-toxic ceramic cement, a mug can’t be fixed with plain old super glue.”

  He pretended not to hear the muffled sound coming from a small closet, the same closet the tears had lead to earlier.

  He’d take the slow route, giving Len plenty of time to pull himself together and head back to wherever he needed to be.  The mug would get fixed eventually, even if there would still be cracks in it.  Replacing it wouldn’t help anything either; it needed to be fixed, along with whatever was happening between Len and Mick.

  It was a small thing, but sometimes you just needed to let someone fix something themselves, no matter what it was.

  5.

  Barry glared lightly at the man Rip had obviously medicated well, although, as far as he could tell, not much had been done about the plethora of bruises running across the man’s chest.

  Hunter had mentioned fixing the older man’s face before shoving both him and the other man that had accompanied them into Barry’s flat without so much as a by your leave.  His eyes trailed from the seemingly expanding set of bruises, moving towards the elephant in the room.  Mick Rory had made himself comfortable on Barry’s larger couch after grabbing the largest mug he could find and filling it with mostly coffee, plus a shot of something that made Barry’s eyes water, even from where he was standing next to Len.

  Mick glared back at him.  “You know, you’re a lot smaller than you seem when you’re zipping around all the time.”

  Barry’s eyes glazed over for a second as he processed what was being said.  “Uh… Thank you?”

  Mick just looked smug, before a second more amused look passed across his face as Barry sensed a motion behind him.  The heavy weight of most of one Leonard Snart suddenly draped itself across his shoulders before running his cheek across the side of his head like a particularly friendly cat.

  “Look, Mick, isn’t our superpowered nemesis adorable in real life?”  Len’s voice was slightly slurred as he spoke.

  Barry already knew that Mick had been told about his real identity, by Rip Hunter of all people.  You’d think as a Time Master, the other man would know how to keep a secret.  Then again, the man had pretty much told the entire Waverider team the truth about what he needed them for within a week of “recruiting” them.  So he wasn’t that worried about that sentence.  Being called adorable by Snart of all people, however, felt a little odd.

  “He is off his tree isn’t he?”  Barry’s question was obviously rhetorical.

  Mick snorted anyway.

  “Absolutely.”

  Barry twitched as Snart’s nose suddenly buried itself in his hair.  The older man took a few deep sniffs, before enunciating slowly, like he was divulging some new, extremely important information.  “He smells like sunshine Mick.”

  Mick stared between them, deadpan for a few moments before replying.  “I’m not interested in what people smell like Len.”

  Barry could practically feel Snart’s eyes widen at Mick’s comment.  “You said Palmer smells like creme brulee and steel, you fibber.”

  Barry decided not to comment on the light pink flush that magically appeared on the pyromaniac’s face at the other man’s comment.

  Instead he dragged himself away with groan.  “I’m assuming Snart can’t drink coffee just yet?”

  Mick shook his head in response, drowning out Snart’s long, whining.  “I caaaaaaan,” with his sharp “No!  Water or juice for him right now.”

  Nodding, Barry made his way over to the cupboard that held the mugs.  He’d stopped buying glasses before he’d gotten superspeed due to the fact that he kept dropping them, and had simply never gotten into the habit of buying them again.  Pulling two out, he put them on the table before going over to fridge to grab some orange juice.

  Not wanting to make Len - clearly still high on medication - feel left out, he poured himself some juice alongside Len’s.

  Taking a mouthful out of his own mug as he handed Len’s over to him, Barry was confused when the other man simply stared between him and the mug.

  Only Barry’s super speed stopped both him and the two mugs from flying through the air as the older man suddenly pressed his lips against his.  They stood, frozen in those few moments, before Len pulled away and turned towards Mick, looking like he was about to reveal some more, vital information to the other man.  “He tastes like sunshine too, Mick.”  Mick just grinned at the look he could clearly see on Barry’s face.  “…And oranges,” Len added as an afterthought to his previous sentence.  “Can I taste you again Scarlet?”

  Barry gazed at him for a few seconds.  “…Maybe when the painkillers wear off, Snart,” he replied.

  Snart stared back.  At first Barry thought Leonard might insist; instead he just said  “… OK,”  before finishing his own juice off and slowly listing forwards into his mug.

  Mick was up like a shot, grabbing the other man before he landed face first on the mug he’d just emptied.

  The seemingly rough man gently hoisted the clearly passed out Snart up into his arms.  “Couch?”  he asked.

  Barry nodded.  “Over there.”  He pointed.  “I’ll grab the blankets.”

  They separated for a few seconds to complete their individual tasks, before sitting in the two empty couches near where Len had been laid down.

  Mick stared at Barry for a few seconds.  “You know… Len will kiss you again, he’s been wanting to for ages.”

  Barry paused to think, before replying.  “I think I might actually learn to like that Mister Rory.”

  Mick nodded.  “Right… call me Mick by the way… Mister Allen.”

  Barry shrugged.  “If you’d prefer, I can accept Barry from you as well.”

  Mick grinned.  “Alrighty.”

  “So… Mick…. Ray Palmer, I believe Len said.”

  Mick flushed pink again.  “Shut up… Barry.”

  6.

  Mick had been right. Len had kissed him after he’d recovered from the effects of the medication he’d been on.  It was rather strange having a steadily developing relationship with a man that had once tried to freeze him alive.

  Along with Len and Mick, he was getting used to having Lisa, Hartley and a few of the more friendly rogues visiting him.  (Although Lisa usually ended up spending half her time with Cisco.)

  He looked up as a muffled sound trickled from his lounge room as he’d paused while unlocking the door.  Putting his stuff down he made his way into the room, expecting to see Len sitting on the couch with the next mug he’d planned to disappear with.

  It was Mick.  The older man was unnervingly quiet.  In his hands was a nondescript mug.  It looked similar to the blank one Len had given him that became alight with snowflakes and lightning when he’d filled it up with hot water.

  Mick looked at him.  “We found a place you could customize these mugs at.”  His voice was low, almost pained as he spoke.

  Barry didn’t say a word; in silence, he took the mug out of Mick’s hands before taking it over to the place next to the kettle before switching the latter on.  He didn’t add coffee, or sugar, or milk to the cup as he waited, instead silently waiting for the automatic switch to click off.

  Mick’s eyes seemed to weigh on him as the sound he was listening for drifted to his ears.

  Still silent, he poured the hot water into the mug.

  “Happy Six Month Anniversary Scarlet.”

  Carrying the mug with it’s newly revealed words over to where Mick was, he sat down next to the older man.  Slowly, his body slumped into the other man’s.

  Mick didn’t speak.  Not as the younger man’s weight sank against his own.  Not as the soft shaking began to vibrate across his chest.  Not even as the shuddering sound of Barry desperately trying to swallow tears, hoping vainly that if he could stop the pain, it meant it was clearly not true.

  “…How?”

  Mick would never consider himself a gentleman, but the sound of Barry’s heart shattering seemed almost real as the younger man finally allowed himself to sob.

  “The Time Masters needed to be stopped.”

  Barry’s own sobs paused at the hitch creeping into Mick’s own voice.

  “…What is it?”

  Even in his sorrow the stupid kid was worried about others.  Mick hated it, hated how much he needed it right now.

  “…I was going to do it… he stopped me…. replaced me… fucking saved me.”

  Barry’s voice cracked as his sorrow overtook him again.  “He was a hero, he was a good hero… I shouldn’t have made him be one.”

  Even as his own voice cracked with his long held back tears, Mick snorted.  “Do you really believe Len would do anything if he didn’t want to?  He chose to be a good guy… we chose it.  But in a way, you’re right, perhaps we were never meant to be heroes.  But people don’t always choose to do what they’re meant to.  Perhaps that’s what Hunter meant.  We chose to do what we were never meant for.  We were never meant to be heroes…. But we may just become legends for it.  Even if Doctor Stein was right, about there being only one way to become a legend.”

  Barry was crying too hard to ask Mick what he’d meant.  Instead he just wailed the one thought that was screaming it’s way through his mind.

  “I didn’t want him to be that much of a hero Mick.”

  The other man just let him cling to his jacket, hands and voice awkward as he stroked the younger man’s hair.  “I know, I know.”