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Prince Barry Allen had been told his entire life to stay away from humans. They were dangerous, barely more than beast, and they had killed his parents too. Of course that all flies out the window when an injury forces him to rely on a group of humans to get home and save his kingdom.
Barry got a lot on his plate, so naturally this is when he starts to fall in love. If only Mick was a merman.
Mick helps Barry across the last section, which is starting to crumble; Barry takes the help, which he'd normally resist, with relief, hobbling straight over to where his bed is.
Mick follows.
"We're making progress," he says, as much for his own sake as for Barry's.
Barry smiles at him.
Barry always smiles at him, no matter how little Mick deserves it. And Mick doesn't deserve it, he doesn't deserve it at all when it's all his fault the world is this way.
"We are," Barry says. "We've scouted out the whole place." With a grunt, he moves his leg into an elevated position - the crushed leg, the one that makes sure he won't run anymore, the one that has left him in crutches.
The one that would heal after a month or two, except that the conditions of Barry's parole are that on the first of each month he has to show up in the public square in the middle of Central City to have it get crushed again, or else his friends in custody will be summarily executed.
Eobard Thawne knows exactly how to gut a speedster.
Mick's fault, of course. All of it.
But still Barry helps him.
"It doesn't help to have scouted out the place if we don't have confirmation that Snart'll be there," Mick says, instead of thinking about it. Instead of thinking about him. About Snart, who was once Mick's best friend and partner.
Snart, Captain Cold, the supervillain.
Snart, brainwashed member of the Legion of Doom.
Snart, who owns half the city -
- because the other half he still holds in trust for Mick.
Even after Mick joining the Resistance. Even after the jailbreaks, the property damage, the kidnappings of key personnel. Even after the rest of the Legion publically raged against Mick, and threatened to put him on the list of conscriptions - lists that would make Mick fair target for any man with a gun and an eye to be rich and powerful and in the favor of the rulers of the world.
Even after everything.
"He will," Barry says, and reaches up to take Mick's hand. His healing factor makes sure his fingers are always soft and gentle, no matter that he works as hard as the next man. "He'll be there tomorrow. I've received word."
Mick's back straightens. He's been with Barry most of the day, and he hadn't heard anything; that meant the Resistance had ordered him not to be told. That the Resistance still doesn't trust him not to be a spy for Snart.
Makes sense. Snart is, after all, the Legion's spymaster.
Barry doesn't apologize for his part in keeping it from Mick, which he used to; instead, he just squeezes Mick's hand and intertwines their fingers. "They trust you," he says. "They're just being cautious."
Mick swallows down his hurt. It's the least he deserves. "I get it."
"You really don't," Barry says sadly. "This wasn't kept from you because they thought you'd give it up, Mick, I promise. It's your acting skills they don't trust, not your loyalty. You've proven the latter a thousand times over."
"My acting skills?" Mick asks, frowning. And then - "Scouting the building today. You think Snart's people were watching."
"I know they were," Barry says calmly. He's become quite a wartime general, ever since the conscriptions began and Doomworld gave up its pretense of being a utopia.
Ever since the Spear was stolen.
God, the Legion had been furious. They'd blamed the Resistance, of course; fear and paranoia at their brand new world being taken away making them decide to stop faking pleasantries. They guarded the spellbook with the instructions on how to use the Spear like dogs, and used only good old-fashioned oppression to change things now, instead of the fake smiles and magic-fueled PR pushes they'd used before.
It doesn't matter what defense they put up, though. The Resistance would throw everything it has in a gamble for that book -
- if only they had the Spear themselves. Which they don't.
So it's war, then; war between them. Resistance and Legion; beaten down superheroes and all-powerful supervillains.
"So I'm bait to lure Snart in, huh?" Mick asks. He squeezes Barry's fingers back, showing that he's not angry.
It's new, this thing between him and Barry. Brand new and still baby-soft; Mick's still not sure why or how they fell into it, only that he was hurting from having to leave Snart and Barry was hurting from losing so many of his people, and fighting at each other's sides was a recipe for letting that little spark between them grow into a full on flame.
"Yeah," Barry says, and he still looks sad.
"Didn't work the last few times," Mick reminds him. Snart's stopped running every time Mick's face appeared after the first few times; a visit from the Magician putting a quick end to that.
At least that visit had confirmed Mick's claims that Snart was acting under brainwashing, or some other form of magical duress; the Legion rarely deployed their resident hypnotist for anything less than a Conversion, and Merlyn rarely agreed to leave his family compound in Starling – as much a prison for his non-compliant family as it was a home – for anything that could be handled by anyone less.
The Resistance had grudgingly agreed to stop trying to target Snart with their assassination attempts after that, to Mick’s relief – Snart was always the most vulnerable of the Legion, going on walks through the city without any guards at all, relying on his guns and his wits to save him. As if he didn't even really care about his stupid life at all.
Fuck, but the Resistance hated full-on Conversions, more than anything else. It’s one thing if it’s Darhk’s little brainwashing tools, magically enchanted objects that needed only to be knocked off the relevant person to free them, or even Merlyn’s second-hand hypnotech, which they’d already invented a remedy for, but when Malcolm Merlyn, the Magician, personally Converts someone, they goddamn stay Converted.
The fact that Snart retains as much personality as he does, honestly, is one of the reasons the Resistance had doubted his status as a Converted.
Fuck, if only Mick had known, he would never have given the Legion the Spear.
“It’ll work this time,” Barry says quietly.
Mick frowns at him, confused.
“We took a break towards the middle,” Barry reminds him.
Sure they had. Mick remembers it; Barry had judged the area safe enough that they could stop to eat some of their provisions, and Mick had taken advantage of the moment of rest to press Barry against the wall and –
“Oh,” Mick says.
“I’m sorry,” Barry says, and he means it, too; he clearly hates the idea of using this fragile new thing between them as a weapon. But this is Doomworld, and the Resistance uses everything and anything as a weapon, anything at all - why should this be different? “But Snart would know it if you were faking.”
Mick nods, his throat tight. Snart would know. But would Mick?
“It wasn’t my idea,” Barry says quickly. “It's not - I don't want you to think that was why this started. It was only after – after I reported it, as a new development, that it was suggested. I didn’t – I didn’t start this because of that. It wasn’t under false pretenses, Mick. I swear.”
Mick realizes then that he’s released his hold on Barry’s hand. “Right,” he says gruffly, and takes it again. Barry exhales with relief. “It's okay. I know you wouldn’t do that, Bright-eyes.”
Barry smiles at him and pulls Mick’s hand closer, pressing his dry lips against Mick’s knuckles. “Our people have offered a parley,” he tells Mick. “Snart comes with two of his own people that he trusts, no Legion, and you and me go in with a negotiator –” Probably Felicity. She was cold as ice, now, after Oliver's Conversion, and just as ruthless. She’d had to leave Starling after nearly being caught by Darhk’s death squads. It could have been Sara, but she was still in recovery from her last stint as part of said squads. Besides, she didn't like working with Mick anymore. “And we talk.”
“What do you want to talk to him about?” Mick asks cautiously, the oldest wound he has from this wretched dystopia tearing at the seams.
He shouldn’t have given the Legion the Spear, but he can’t regret Snart being alive. He can't be a party to an assassination, if that's what this is.
“We think he’s found a way to resist Conversion,” Barry says. “It doesn’t matter how many times Merlyn visits, he’s never broken down all the way. He’s trapped in their rules, yes, but I think – we think – that he’s doing it because he doesn’t want to give away the fact that he can get out. If he does have a way to get out, it's a one-time play, and he hasn't played the card yet - or at least, we don't have any proof that he has.”
Mick nods. It makes a certain amount of sense; Snart claimed the Twin Cities for himself, Central and Keystone, and his rule has been far more kind than any of the rest of the Legion, which seems to think America is the center of the universe and the rest of the world merely there to supply it with whatever the Legion might want. Their armies abroad, led by Converted leaders, make sure that dissension remains minimal.
Snart doesn’t have any Converted in his cities, other than of course himself. He claims he doesn’t need them – and sure enough, the police and City Hall listen to him for no other reason than the fact that he’s in charge. Ah, Central City - the world may change, but corruption in Central is as reliable as death and taxes.
“We also want to know what he knows about the Spear,” Barry says. “He’s the Legion’s spymaster; if anyone would know about how their progress in finding it is going, he would.”
Mick nods. “When?”
“Tomorrow,” Barry says, not without sympathy.
Mick still flinches. So soon. He won’t have time to prepare himself – probably something the Resistance leaders had in mind when they picked the time.
But that’s not Barry’s fault, so Mick still curls up next to Barry, careful not to jar his foot, and they sleep the sleep they can get.
Mick’s too tired for dreams, which is the only reprieve he has. He misses Snart so much it hurts.
The next day, they go – him and Barry and Felicity, as expected – to the abandoned warehouse they’ve seen Snart at before. It was one of his and Mick’s favorite safehouses, back in the day; Mick had been avoiding them, since Snart’s frantic manhunt for Mick is still technically in full swing, but Barry had been certain it was where they’d find Snart. Or Snart’s men, it seemed.
“We have back-up outside,” Felicity tells them. “If Snart betrays us, we have a rescue team in place here, in place in transit, and another in place in the Compound. We'll be rescued, or we'll be eliminated; either way, the Legion won't find out what we know.”
Mick and Barry nod.
“He give his word that we'd be safe?” Mick asks.
Felicity looks at him, her gaze icy. She’d been nice to him at the start, but now she was one of the ones who refused to trust him. Losing Oliver had changed a lot.
Barry still held out hope that rescuing him from his Conversion would help change some of it back. Mick wasn’t so sure, and that was even assuming there was anything of Oliver left.
“Yes,” she says.
“Then he won’t betray you,” Mick says.
“He might not have a choice,” she reminds him.
The Converted rarely did, when they ran into one of the orders implanted deep down by Malcolm Merlyn. It was sometimes very literally a do-or-die situation.
“Ain’t the whole reason we’re here the fact that we think he can ignore that?” Mick shoots back, crossing his arms. “He won’t.”
Felicity presses her lips together, but inclines her head. She trusts Mick’s judgment, which makes her better to work with than some of his ex-crew on the Legends.
Hell, most of the time Mick doesn’t trust his own judgment.
But Snart won’t hurt Mick or see harm come to him. Mick’s sure of that.
Snart just wants him back.
They go to the meet early.
Snart arrives right on time.
Alone.
“You were told you could bring two others,” Felicity says. She’s the only one sitting at the table; Mick and Barry are standing back in the shadows, tensed up. Mick’s got his heat gun, and Barry might not be able to run but he’s still got his speed and his arms, but Snart’s got an army of spies and informers and metas.
“Didn’t feel like it,” Snart drawls, walking out into the light. He seems casual enough, nodding a greeting to Felicity, eyes scanning the room, right up until his eyes land on Mick.
Then he’s not casual at all.
Snart’s eyes are fixed on Mick like a man in the desert on seeing a glass of water. Like Mick’s everything he wants, everything he could ever want; that gaze is so tempting – come back with me and be my partner, it cries, and I will take care of you, my dearest friend, my oldest friend – that it makes Mick’s mouth go dry.
If it wasn’t for the Legion, Mick would be at Snart’s side in a heartbeat.
Lenny…
“Been a few months,” Mick offers guardedly.
“Heard you’ve been busy,” Snart says in return. His hands are twitching, his fingers rolling in and out, an unusually open sign of anxiety for him, but he doesn’t make any sudden moves. His eyes flicker to Barry, and Barry tenses, but Snart’s eyes are crinkled around the edges in a smile he’s not letting touch his lips.
Mick swallows again. He remembers how Snart always enjoyed Mick’s love affairs as much, if not more, than Mick did; Snart’s always been uninterested in either romance or sex for himself, but he watched Mick’s relationships like a soap opera he took personal interest in, living vicariously. Sometimes not so vicariously – he liked planning romantic gestures on Mick’s behalf, which tended to drive Mick’s partners nuts when they finally realized that Mick was about as romantic as half a brick.
Some of them didn’t understand it, how Snart felt free to interfere in Mick’s life and Mick was fine with him doing it, and that sometimes ended it, but it didn’t matter. Snart was Mick’s partner. That was more important than any relationship.
It had been, anyway.
Barry -
Mick's not sure of anything anymore.
“We’re doing good,” Mick says, which is what Snart really wants to know. “I’m doing good. Sleeping fine. No breakdowns.”
Snart’s shoulders relax, even if his fingers are still flickering.
That’s what he came here to find out.
It hurts, sometimes, to know that Snart – brainwashed, Converted, Legion – still loves Mick enough to worry about him like that.
The Legion’s rage at his actions aside, Mick’s still not on any conscription list. The only one of the whole Resistance that isn’t, in fact, all but for Barry, who's only off of the list as long as he lets Eobard torment him, and really, that says everything it needs to.
Snart still has enough influence in the Legion to keep that from happening.
“We’ve made our gesture of good faith,” Felicity says crisply, meaning Mick. “Are you willing to negotiate?”
“You’re happy?” Snart asks Mick, ignoring her.
Mick considers the question. No, of course he’s not happy – his partner is evil, his lover is crippled anew every month, his world is in shambles, and he’s part of a rag-tag Resistance that can barely keep the dictators of the world from murdering everybody.
But it’s better than it had been when he was still pretending the world the same, hiding by Snart’s side and pulling meaningless heists against police that wouldn’t fight back.
“Could be better,” Mick finally says.
“Mr. Snart,” Felicity says sharply. “Are you willing to negotiate? Or should we go now?”
Snart’s eyes flicker to her briefly at that last. He doesn’t want them to go, that much is clear. He wants them to stay, stay with him. He’d made his appeal clear the last time they’d met, months ago – Mick by his side, nothing more, and in return Mick could have anything he’s ever wanted; any lover, any experience, anything.
Mick’s sure that if Snart could, he’d extend the offer to cover Barry as well.
If Mick thought Barry would take it, that relief from his endless agony, he might even consider it.
But no. Barry turns himself over to Eobard’s mercies once a month, every month, and Eobard only lets him go because the joy of having Barry submit voluntarily to his own torture and mutilation outweighs every other reasonable concern. Barry’s been doing that since the beginning, even before Eobard had Iris and Joe to hold over his head, just to keep Eobard from killing innocents. He wouldn't stop now.
Barry would never take the deal.
And so, with sadness, Mick can’t, either.
“I got you something,” Snart says. He’s still talking only to Mick. His hands are still twitching. “You and Scarlet. A gift.”
Snart’s presents have always been wonderful things, and Doomworld has only made him capable of doing everything his imagination wanted. He’s burned cities for Mick’s pleasure; he’s commuted sentences for Resistance members over the complaints of the remainder of the Legion; he’s even, in a quiet moment, build a small set of graves on an obscure bit of farmland outside of Keystone.
Mick’s heart can’t take too many more of these gifts.
“Snart,” he starts, intending on refusing, but Snart’s holding up his hand.
“It’s a gift, Mick,” Snart says, his voice soft. “Please take it.”
Mick never could tell Snart no when he said please.
Mick inclines his head in consent. His throat is too tight to speak.
“Mr. Snart –” Felicity starts.
“I’ll be with you in a moment,” Snart snarls, his face jerking out of its momentary calm for only a second before he smooths it down, but it says everything that he broke, even for a second. This is as hard for him as it is for Mick.
Mick feels Barry’s hand slip into his.
“What’s the present?” Barry asks, because Mick can’t talk right now.
Snart goes to the wall, where Mick vaguely remembers there being a closet once, and pulls it open, some trick of shifting drywall and creaking masonry.
“What is it?” Mick finally asks, speaking through the thickness in his throat. He can’t imagine what he could possibly want that would fit into a closet – he’s always valued experiences and people more than he did things.
Snart pauses before he opens the now-uncovered closet door.
“The only thing I could think of that would make you come back to me,” he says.
Mick swallows, hard, and Felicity and Barry tense up. Mick’d known that Snart would never give up on that, never, but he’d thought – Snart had come alone, without any guards – if this is a trap –
“It’s not a trap,” Snart says, because he can still read Mick like an open book. “It’s a gift.”
“I can’t come back,” Mick says, despairing, and it’s only Barry’s hand in his that keeps him from hiding his face in his hands. “You know I can’t, Lenny. I can’t join the Legion. Not even for you.”
Snart closes his eyes, a brief moment of pain. “Yeah, I know,” he says, his voice rough. “S’why I got you this.”
And Mick doesn’t know what it could possibly be that Snart thinks would do what thirty years of partnership can’t, that fires and freedoms and anything Mick has ever wanted can’t; thinks to himself for a wild moment that Snart’s lost it at last, that he thinks some gift would be worth more to Mick than Snart himself; thinks that –
Mick thinks that right up until the moment that Snart turns, and in his hands is the Spear.
“The Spear of Destiny,” Felicity breathes, her eyes wide and fixed on the instrument that shaped all of their fates. “You found it!”
“It was never lost,” Mick says through numb lips, staring at Snart. Staring at Len. His Len, his partner. The thief. “You stole it. You stole it from them, from the Legion. And then you hid it away and never let them know.”
Snart nods. “They were going to make more changes,” he says, his hands curling around the Spear, his fingers still twitching. “That, or destroy the Spear and make all the changes permanent. As long as this was still around, there was a chance of changing.”
“Why didn’t you tell us about it sooner?” Barry asks, his eyes wide with wonder.
“Couldn’t,” Snart says. “Merlyn questioned me. Was all I could do not to answer.”
Conversion, he means; this is the first confirmation they’ve had from Snart’s lips that Merlyn was the one who handled him, that he had been brainwashed, that he had resisted. That he’d found a way out.
“You were Converted,” Felicity says, her eyes sharp, but her fingers are twitching. If Snart could escape a Conversion, then maybe, one day, so could Oliver. “You resisted.”
“I escaped,” Snart corrects her. “It took some time to throw it off. Only managed to get out of the last parts of it a few weeks back.”
The manhunt for Mick had been massively escalated twenty days ago.
“How?” Felicity demands.
“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Snart says. “It involves a bit of brain damage.”
Mick takes an automatic step forward, horror welling in his gut at the thought of Snart damaging that beautiful brain of his; his partner damaged, hurt –
“It’s fine,” Snart says, though his eyes have gone soft in the way they only do around Mick or Lisa. His fingers dance on the Spear. “I figured that soon enough, it won’t matter.”
“We don’t have the book of spells,” Barry says, though his voice is filled with longing. A world with his friends back at his side, a world where Eobard met the bad end he deserves, where Darhk is dead at Oliver Queen's hands, where Merlyn is a pathetic has-been – a world with no pain, no death, the world they should have had. The world that was stolen from them by the Spear.
“We can get it,” Felicity says, her eyes afire with possibilities. “We have plans – we could –”
“You don’t need to,” Mick says. He knows his partner.
Sure enough, Snart is smirking.
“Wouldn’t be much of a gift, would it,” Snart drawls, and pulls a sheet of paper out of his pocket, “if I didn’t bring the owner’s manual.”
He takes a step forward, then another, then another, until he’s right in front of Barry and Mick.
“Thanks for taking care of him for me,” he says to Barry, reaching out and taking Barry’s hand, wrapping it around the spear.
Barry nods quietly, his eyes glistening with tears.
“Don’t forget about that when you’re back in your good old world. I’m counting on you,” Snart warns, and that’s when Mick realizes that Snart doesn’t think he’ll be around, in the world they’re going to make, him and Barry; Snart thinks they’re going to go back to the world the way it used to be, with him dead and gone.
And he’s giving them the Spear anyway.
“No,” Mick says. “No, Lenny – we’ll find a way –”
Snart reaches out and catches Mick’s hand.
Mick falls silent.
Snart wraps it around Barry’s, both of their hands on the Spear.
“Good luck,” Snart says. “Partner.”
And he steps back, the piece of paper in his hands, and he’s reading the words out loud, and the Spear’s started to glow a bright white light.
Felicity’s face is shocked – she didn’t expect it to happen so quickly –
Neither did Barry, nor Mick –
But the light is between them, in Barry’s hands and Mick’s, and it’s up to them, now.
This time, Mick’s not going to let anyone down: not Snart, not Barry, not anyone.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Flash (TV 2014)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Barry Allen/Mick Rory
Characters: Barry Allen, Mick Rory, Lisa Snart, Leonard Snart
Additional Tags: FlashWave Week 2017, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Roommates, Cookies, Identity Reveal, Falling In Love, Love Confessions, backdated work
Series: Part 4 of Flashwaveweek2017
Summary:
Mick thinks he's doomed when he gets a roommate, but maybe it's not so bad?
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary: Mick and Len are on a job and Mick's pretty sure the guy chatting him up is a cop.
Fandom: The Flash (TV 2014)
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Barry Allen/Mick Rory
Characters: Mick Rory, Barry Allen, Leonard Snart Cameo
Tags: Awkward First Meetings, Meet Cute, Non-Consensual Filming During Sex, Breathplay Mention, Porn Watching, Most of This Happens Before the Story Starts, Cute, I think, Funny to Me
Type: Head cannon Note: I hope this is passable??? IT'S Barry's senior year and he's excited. But like imagine over the summer he spent it away in Keystone or whatever and met the local juvenile deliquient Mick Rory and the citizens told Barry that it was a bad idea and all that and an entire summer he had to deal with their noise. Flashfoward to him coming home and he forgets all about Mick and starts dating Leonard Snart. It's perfect and fine until Mick comes to town and it turns out that Mick is an old friend (rival as well and flame) of Len's and it's fine, Honestly it's fine. Until Mick decides that he wants Barry back.
