Ray Palmer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
billionerd) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
clockbox2017-02-10 10:05 pm
billionerd) wrote in clockbox2017-02-10 10:05 pm
[Catch-all Update for Legends crew]
WHO: Legends crew
WHAT: many happy (???) reunions. also drinking, possible make-outs.
WHEN: February.
WHERE: All over.
WARNINGS: Spoilers for S2 up until current episode. Also possibly sex and foul language and so forth.
WHAT: many happy (???) reunions. also drinking, possible make-outs.
WHEN: February.
WHERE: All over.
WARNINGS: Spoilers for S2 up until current episode. Also possibly sex and foul language and so forth.
[ Ray + Len ]
He'd gotten one in the morning: coldasice has joined the network and for a very long time, Ray had just stared at the blinking message, sure he'd messed up somehow.
His first instinct had been to call Mick, the second one to call Sara, the third one to find Leonard and make sure he wasn't hallucinating. He'd chosen option three.
It's a very long day after that, Ray going from bar to bar with increasing trepidation and a growing certainty that he's looking for a ghost. He finds a cup in the trash with the initials C.C. scrabbled on in sharpie, trips on an empty safe even though he wasn't looking for a bank, runs past a snowstorm and into a mall and ends up in front of a store of winter jackets. As the day wears on, Ray grows more and more convinced that the universe is fucking with him, possibly with Len's help. Or vice-versa, really.
After finding a half empty bottle of beer he's only ever seen in Central City, he decides he's done being messed with and heads home. Home? It had been home before, for him and Mick and Len, and later Sara. A second Waverider, sort of. Ray had found the place exactly as he'd left it, his bed was the one they'd used the least. And that was weird too, the feelings he'd had were still there, buried beneath his most recent memories. His first night back Ray had found himself crying for no discernible reason, it's likely once he makes it back to the warehouse he'll find himself crying again.
As he enters the warehouse, he tells himself he did well by not telling Mick or Sara about the username, things are complicated enough without him raising false alarms and false hopes. It's late, but he doesn't expect his teammates to be back yet, they're both more night owls and none of them is quite done burying their feelings under alcohol. Ray almost wishes he could bring himself to join them. ]
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Leonard's hand glides along the metal railing as he descends the stairs from the workshop to the ground floor. He stops at the bottom and looking straight ahead of him, and then turning to look at Ray.
He looks just like Ray remembers him. Living, breathing, his eyes as sharp as they've ever been. Wearing the same outfit he'd worn that night. Black and blue.
There's only one thing missing. ]
Have you seen my gun around? I think I might've dropped it.
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He remembers this place, though, Leonard getting in his space like he owned it (he did) kissing him until they were both out of breath. Ray hadn't had time to miss him, not linearly, and yet he feels like he hasn't seen him in years. ]
I dismantled it.
[ To save the day with Mick's permission. He's not sure what he did with it after, his memories are still a jumbled mess.
His voice is low and raw, and he's staring at Leonard like he's not entirely sure he's real. ]
I'll fix it.
[ He adds even though he's not sure he can. He owes Leonard that much. ]
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[ Leonard's eyes narrow at Ray's admission. Gauging him. Steeling himself.
He remembers everything. Here and there. Then and now. It's all the same up to a point, and then it splits down the middle. The theatrical version versus the director's cut.
Leonard's fingers grip the railing as he sucks in air between his teeth. There's a reason it'd taken him the better part of the day to come 'home'. He'd spent a while trying to untangle the chains of memory, but it was delicate work, and in the end he'd come to an altogether unhelpful conclusion.
That the Leonard who had kissed Ray was him, and that the Leonard who Sara had kissed was also him. Two sides of the same coin that had been split apart, and welded back together again.
His head hurts. His heart hurts. He understands Chronos better now. ]
Spare parts.
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[ He takes a step closer, two. And he freezes again, just staring at him. People can come here after they die, he's seen that with Laurel. Twice. And Eddie and... Ray's almost in tears, his memories are a movie playing in the wrong order, he'd wanted to punch Rip but hadn't gotten to. And then there had been no point.
He's quiet for a long moment, staring. Memory is a tricky thing, Ray could've said Leonard's eyes were blue, he's been pinned under them enough times, but he didn't remember how bright they were. ]
... are you real?
[ He doesn't want to blink, worried Leonard will disappear if he does. ]
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[ Leonard walks across the foyer and into the kitchen. He pulls a kitchen knife out of a wooden block beside the stove, tracing a finger along with edge with a whisper of skin against steel.
It feels sharp enough. Real enough. As real as any of this does.
Leonard feels like he's in a vacuum. There's a detached look in his eyes as he draws the blade of the knife across his palm, at least until the blood starts to bubble between his fingers and splatter onto the kitchen floor.
It hurts. At least he thinks it does. Would a ghost be able to tell? ]
Whaddya think?
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What are you doing?!
[ Without thinking he's crossing the distance between them and reaching for Len's wrist, the one holding the knife. He can worry about feelings and memories later. ]
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Leonard looks up at Ray, his eyes wet. He drops the knife. It bounces and skids along the floor with a clatter that echoes through the warehouse.
The pain is nothing. Ray, in that moment, is everything.
Leonard exhales a shuddering breath, brow knitting as he squeezes his eyes shut. ]
Gotta hand it to Sara. Being dead is harder than it looks.
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He's choking back sobs immediately after. He can't stop them completely even though he's really trying. He doesn't think he has the right to cry yet, he didn't die, he's not bleeding. He should at least wait until he's taken care of Leonard's hand, but he can't. ]
Sorry.
[ The word is barely a whisper, he can't speak any louder without straight up losing it. He's apologizing for everything, for letting him die, for ot finding him sooner, for letting him hurt himself, for forgetting this place again. ]
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[ It's as close as he can get to reassuring Ray with words. Then Ray envelops him, and he's suffocating on the emotions rising in the back of his throat.
One hand finds the back of Ray's neck, fingers threading into his hair. The other hangs by his side, clenched into a loose fist. Leonard can feel the thump of Ray's heart through his chest more clearly than his own. It feels stronger than his. Maybe because it is, and always has been.
That's why Leonard had done it, in the end. Because he's a sore loser. It was easier, and less painful for him to lose himself than it would have been to lose any of the people he'd come to love. ]
C'mon.
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[ Mick + Len + Ray ]
The Hedge Maze was capable of taking quite a lot of abuse, something Mick had discovered rather swiftly over the months he'd been resident in the Clock. Still, this was his most ambitious tackle against its impervious walls yet. The walls in immediate view were absolutely subsumed in flame now, broken only by the black silhouette of one man dual-wielding two different flamethrowers. Mick shrugs the strap of one clear of his shoulders and drops it as he steps into the warehouse, either not noticing or uncaring of how it dissolves against the invisible line between the two locations.
The heat gun gets tucked into its holster as he makes long strides into the place he once considered the place to kick up his boots. His eyes are hidden behind the bug-eyed goggles that protect them from the glare of every destructive whim. ]
WELL?
[ Mick half growls, half demands as he passes the defunct car he and Ray had pulled out of an orchard some months ago to tinker with.
He pushes his goggles up and whips them off in one motion; they bounce off the trunk of the car on their way to oblivion.
If it feels like this moment is over the top, it's because it is. Because the things Mick feels aren't simple; more than anything, he just wishes they were. ]
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Then he's on his feet, because it's better to go to Mick then let Mick come to him if they want to keep their furniture intact. That, and he doesn't want Ray to get in the middle of this. It wasn't his fire to put out.
He walks towards Mick with his arms outstretched, palms turned towards him. Wearing the same outfit he'd been wearing when he'd clocked Mick on the head and snatched his death out from right beneath his nose. ]
Extra, extra, read all about it! Central City man comes back from the dead in stunning turn of events, only to be gunned down by widower in the same day. Now that's a front page.
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You wish.
[ Mick snarls, just before he aims a right hook at Leonard's face. He doesn't expect the throw to connect - he expects the other to shimmer out of his reach like a mirage, or else have his fist pass through him, as it always has. ]
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Leonard owes Mick that much. If anyone should be the target of Mick's flame, it's him. Better out than in.
He holds onto the counter and shakes it off, turning around to look back at Mick with a crooked smirk. ]
C'mon. It wasn't personal. You know I like to make an exit.
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Leonard Snart is the only person in Mick's world that could make an explosion feel lonely. Without him it's felt like Mick's been living the horrible drag in a story where the author can't decide whether to kill him or set up a sequel. It's been centuries or days; far too long, no matter the case.
After that moment, Mick steps forward after Leonard's stumbling body. Black-gloved fingers reach out to catch the front of the younger man's shirt just as the other man is finding a good pose, hauling him into Mick's heat. He smells like char, gun oil, and pure heat. ]
Fuck you.
[ It's a graveled rasp, soft as the conflicted sparkle in his eyes. He takes an impossible step further into Leonard's space and kisses the other man, subtle as a car crash. Strong arms dip down and claim the narrow waist, hoisting Leonard up to sit on the counter.
There's a part of him that has to point out that this reunion could and should have been more detached, that they could have flung a few more cool barbs across the table. It's not the man Mick wants to be, though, not the person who's going to get him what he needs. He doesn't want to be the assassin the Time Masters tried to program into him.
And he's discovering the long-ago thought of feeling fine, that he'd moved on, was a lot like thinking he'd put out a fire - only to have Leonard Snart's goddamn boot kick the burning embers between his ribs. ]
[ Len + Ray ] It's a date.
He'd been on plenty of jobs that looked like dates, but that was business. Never pleasure. Seduction is just one of many tools in a rogue's arsenal, and honeypotting one of the oldest and most effective tricks in the book. Leonard's just as experienced at stealing hearts as he is wallets.
Ray isn't the first clueless billionaire he's had wrapped around his finger, and he probably won't be the last. Or so he tries to tell himself, as anxiety rears it's ugly head. Of all the marks he's had, and all the jobs, it's the one time he doesn't have an ulterior motive that's making him freeze.
A date, a real date, had been a bad idea.
It had taken Leonard too long to choose what to wear, he didn't know where they were going or what they were doing. He'd settled on his tightest black jeans, a navy v-neck and a black leather jacket. If Ray's busy staring at his ass, maybe he won't notice how haggard Leonard looks and feels.
He runs his hands back through the silver bristle of his hair, turning his head one way and then the other. Scrutinizes himself. One cheek is still purple black. His eyes look tired, and his skin is pale. He hasn't been sleeping well. Hasn't left the warehouse in days, either.
Twenty-five minutes was long enough for him to start doubting his decision, and ability, to go out now. He hears Ray slide open the warehouse door almost as soon as he picks up his device to shoot him a message. ]
You're a minute and a half early.
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[ Ray's carrying a heart-shaped box. Chocolates, obviously, you can never go wrong with a classic and Ray thought Len might get a kick out of it.
He's noticed Leonard isn't going out at all and he's been quiet, hasn't even had the energy to put on his person mask, it makes sense but it's not healthy to encourage it. Ray knows, he has a tendency to hide too whenever he's depressed. ]
Happy Valentine's?
[ He holds out the box, smiling. Ray's wearing a long-sleeved shirt and jeans, nothing special. He has to get a jacket before they set out, mostly because he expects Leonard to get cold and steal it. ]
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[ Leonard stares at the heart-shaped box for a long moment before taking it with a put-upon sigh and a roll of his eyes, prying open the lid and hiding his smile behind a chocolate truffle before letting Ray in. He eats another one before the box makes it to the counter.
At least Ray knows his gift has been well received.
Leonard hasn't been eating much in the way of breakfast, lunch or dinner, but he's always got room for chocolate. Especially when it's hand-delivered by a tall glass of almond milk, or whatever the hell it is Ray drinks. ]
I was gonna get you something, but I figured my being here is the best gift money can't buy. You're welcome.
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[ Len being around counts as birthday and christmas presets combined for the rest of his life. ]
Let's go, I have a fun day planned.
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[ Spending too much time around Ray is like staring into the sun too long. It permanently affects the way you see things. For better or for worse.
Not so long ago, Leonard wouldn't have believed someone would piss on a fire to put him out. Still wouldn't, if it were anyone but Ray. No one's as good as he is.
Which begs a question Leonard isn't sure he wants the answer to: What the hell is Ray doing here, with a guy like him?
He sidles around Ray and leans back against the door, looking him up and down with an approving smirk. ]
Y'know, we could have a fun day without leaving the warehouse.
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[ He gives Leonard a small kiss, though. He's not always great at reading the mood, but he can tell Len's nervous, reluctant to go out after weeks of staying home. ]
Come on.
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[ Leonard kisses Ray back. It's tempting to bully him, to see if he can't get his way by taking the debate below the belt, but there's something in Ray's eyes that stops him.
Ray wants to go on a date, a real date, and he'd gone out of his way to plan one.
No one's done that for him before. Not even Mick.
He rubs his face, stepping out of the way of the door. Resigned to his fate, as pink and heart-shaped as it would likely be.
There's a first time for everything. ]
I'll let you take the lead. Don't get used it.
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[ He offers his arm and leads Len out of the warehouse. It takes Ray a few tries to get to the right room; an ice-skating rink, completely empty but very well-kept. There are skates of every size lined up on shelves, and the ice is smooth.
Ray has no idea if Leonard knows how to skate, but Ray does and half of the fun is learning, so really. ]
This is our first stop.
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[ Leonard knows his way around a rink. Almost as soon as he'd gotten his hands on the cold gun he'd taught himself everything there was to know about ice, and how to use it to his advantage.
That, and it wouldn't have been great for his image to slip.
He's learned how to walk on ice, climb it, carve it and make a mean bellini, but he's never actually bothered with skates. Boots with a good tread had always done the trick. ]
You a figure-skating fan, Ray? Because you're about to see a master on ice.
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[ He was a jock-type, though, and had tried hockey when he was younger, so he's okay at skating.
He grabs a pair of skates Leonard's size and hands them over. ]
I'm willing to have my mind changed, though.
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