Non-powered, Modern AU. Pre-slash. More of a meet-cute that happens at a coffee shop than an actual coffee shop au Iâm afraid. Â Leonard is some kind of engineer (I borrowed from Prison Break okay. Let me live). Mick installs heating systems. I Imagined the city as Boston purely for familiarityâs sake and also cold.Â
Leonard Snart was one of those people who drank iced coffee in the dead of winter. Not out of any desire for brain-freeze or frostbite but simply because iced coffee every morning on the way to work was a habit he couldnât be bothered to break. It had become a habit of Lisaâs too and, since he didnât mind the cold as such, he figured that it would only cause unnecessary stress to both of them to change the routine.
Every morning like clockwork the elder Snart sibling would enter the coffee shop and his little sister would have his iced coffee there waiting for him. Sometimes she would throw in a flavor or some whipped cream as a joke (he argued that it offended his masculinity, to which she tended to reply âwhat masculinity?â). Regardless of what kind of girly shit Lisa put in his coffee, Len was generally in and out and on his way to work with the ice jingling in his plastic cup in under 6 minutes.
This morning was shaping up to be a little different.
Leonard found himself stuck in line behind a man whom he had never seen before. He was very large, very slow, very musclebound, and very very much Leonardâs type. The man ran nervous hands over his buzzed scalp as he squinted at the menu hanging over the pastry counter.
He was dressed in rust-colored coveralls and a big, stained, workmanâs jacket - some kind of mechanic, Len reasoned. He was built like a tank; broad shoulders, trim waist, biceps which were roughly the circumference of Leonardâs head. He had smile lines around his eyes and little, confused, wrinkles between his eyebrows. His nose had obviously been broken a few times before. His mouth was set in an intense line that weaker men than Leonard had probably run screaming at the sight of. His eyes, still scanning the menu, were like pieces of flint.
He looked like the kind of man who would break you in half and then buy you take out afterward.
Oh yes, very much Leonardâs type.
Leonard checked his watch in order to make his ogling a little less obvious. He was getting behind schedule.
The man was still looking at the menu.
Leonard shifted from foot to foot and tried to convince himself he wasnât staring at the manâs ass.
Time seemed to drag to a crawl. Leonard was forced to pretend that he wasnât about to vibrate out of his skin - both on account of the anxiety of being behind schedule as well as the sudden, gut-punch, realization that he hadnât gotten laid in months.
Lisa caught his eye from over the pastry counter and waived his medium iced coffee forlornly at him, bottom lip stuck out in a comically mocking pout.
Finally, finally, the man moved up to the register and ordered his drink.
When pressed for details much later, Len would recall it had something to do with butterscotch and caramel and that it was very large. Mick for his part would insist that it had been a very large peppermint mocha - no caramel to be found.
Regardless, the drink ordered was very large, very strong, very sweet and very hot - all things that Len appreciated in men but certainly not in coffee. He couldnât help the judgemental noise that he made when the man finalized his order.
He gave his name as âMickâ to the cashier and turned to Leonard, eyebrows drawn together in appraisal.
âYou got a problem, Blue?â his voice was gravelly and warm with the bite of steel hidden somewhere beneath, a veiled but deadly threat. He didnât make any effort to conceal the fact that he was checking Leonard out - whether out of pure, innocent unselfconsciousness or simply not-giving-a-shit Leonard didnât know. He would be lying if he said it didnât turn him on - just a little bit.
âNo problemâ he replied, meeting the manâs - Mickâs - eyes and holding them. He knew he could be frightening but he had a hunch that Mick could be frightening too. He wanted to see who would break first.
Mick looked away first. But not before Lisa had coughed surreptitiously twice and began to obnoxiously, continuously, shake Leonardâs cup like a rattle in an effort to get his attention.
Leonard paid and collected his coffee from his sister who gave him a massive, saucy, wink.
He gave her his best impression of a steel beam in response - cold, brittle, non-plussed. She knew him well enough to know what he meant.
âIced Coffee in January?â Mick, hanging by the counter to collect his drink asked, raising an eyebrow and looking like he had just delivered some kind of ultimate verbal smackdown.
Leonard shrugged, taking a sip - consciously keeping eye contact to monitor whether or not Mickâs gaze was drawn to his lips around the straw. Â It was. Leonard celebrated; quietly, internally.
âI like the cold,â He said, heading over to the counter under the pretense of adding more sugar to his already sweetened drink.
âWell then you can have itâ Mick said âThe cold. Itâs horribleâ
âI hate to break it to ya big guy, but you picked the wrong place to live if you hate the coldâ
âI build and install heating systems for a living, thereâs not much call for that in places where it never gets coldâ
âTouchĂŠ.â Len took another sip of his drink. Lisa had put some kind of weird flavor in it. He wasnât sure he liked it.
âWhat do they call you then?â Mick asked. Lisa slid him his drink across the counter. Mick leaned against the counter with surprising grace for such a large man, curling his broad hands around the cup.
âThey call me Leonard,â Len said, trying in vain not to imagine what those hands would feel like in his or, better yet, burning bruises on his hips.
Mick made an appreciative noise, taking a sip of his own drink. âSure then. Captain Cold it isâ
Leonard shrugged, expression carefully impassive âWhatever you like, Mickâ
They spent a long moment just looking at each other. There was definitely something there - something shivering and strange in the space between them. Leonard didnât know what it meant but fuck if he wasnât curious. He took out one of his business cards and wrote a short message on it before starting to flip it around between his fingers - an old card trick, a nervous tick. Mickâs gaze followed the movement of his fingers avidly.
âWell,â Leonard said with reluctant finality âI have to get to workâ that was an understatement. He was 5 minutes behind schedule and was running the risk of missing his train at this rate. Honestly, though, he didnât really care.
Mick rubbed one hand over his scalp with the air of an astronaut suddenly and unceremoniously returned to earth âYeah, fuck, me tooâ
âHere,â Len said, offering Mick the business card and, carefully keeping eye contact and lacing his voice with every ounce of seduction he could muster added, âjust in case you ever need someone to keep you warmâ
He turned on his heel, smirking, and strode out into the freezing wind. Maybe Mick would call him, maybe he wouldnât (he did), but at that moment Leonard had a train to catch, a freezing January day to enjoy, and a cold coffee to drink.
