#colwave

Len’s used to odd changes in weather happening around him; it’s kinda hard to live with a meta-human with the power to manipulate weather and not get used to the idea that your perfect sunny day might be marred with a freak thunderstorm with no warning at the whims of a bored criminal.  On a good day, he even gets through his day with a patch of sunshine protecting him from whatever nature has decided the sky should dump on his head as long as he hasn’t upset Mark.  Today is not a good day.

Len rolls over, shoving the lump beside him with a huff and glares at the ceiling, or at least what little he can see of it.  It wouldn’t bother him normally, as he’s woken up to worse weather outside the safehouse he has graciously deemed to invite them into, but it’s been getting worse and this has reached a new level of ridiculous.  If he has to deal with this every day, he decides, he’s kicking them all out.  Well, Lisa can stay, and Cold guesses that the lump in his bed that is their very own pyro can, too.

Mick grumbles and flops over, swatting at Len’s foot nudging him, and Len takes it as a sign he’s awake enough to deal with it instead.  “Go tell Mark to knock it off,” Len yanks the blanket off Mick and shoves him again, ignoring the muttered cursing he gets in response.

“You picked him,” Mick huffs, blindly grabbing for the blankets and obviously determined to go back to sleep in Len’s bed.  “You deal with it.”

Len rolls his eyes and glares, keeping the blankets out of reach and pretending not to notice when a couple of Mick’s grabs for it could be mistaken for attempts at hugs or cuddles.  “Hey, I just wanted more people working with us.  I had nothing to do with inviting them to live with us; you and sis came up with that idea all on your own,” Len pushes at Mick again, “‘sides you’re the one with an issue with lower temperatures.”

He gets a pillow in the face for that, but despite the groan and continued muttered cursing Mick rolls out of the bed and to his feet.  “What’s he done now--” he trails off as he finally opens his eyes, tilting his head up at the ceiling and staring.  “Are those…”

“Yeah,” Len chuckles at Mick’s expression, “apparently we’re now getting weather inside.  Go tell Mark to knock it off before we go from slightly overcast to raining and I have to replace all the furniture on his dime.”

That gets a laugh out of Mick, and Len reaches over the bed to pick up the hastily-discarded shirt that had been dropped the night before, tossing it at Mick’s head before laying back down and wrapping himself in the blankets.  He doesn’t expect the alarm clock thrown back in retaliation but manages to catch it anyway and glares at Mick with an expression that is much closer to a pout than the stern look he’s trying to give.  “Wouldn’t want you to over-sleep,” it’s muffled slightly as Mick pulls the shirt on, “You know how cranky Cold gets when we’re late.”

Cold glares harder and Mick laughs, ducking out of the room before Len can helpfully return the clock.  Len hears him head down the hall, and when the gray clouds blocking his view of the ceiling dissipate without any screaming or the sudden smell of smoke he counts it as a win, burying himself back in blankets and letting himself drift back to sleep.