Meme Fic
No I didn't forget! Just been really busy, and honestly, a couple of these (from my daughter) still aren't done. But I'm in the mood to post, so here we go.
Here's the list:
1. Benton Fraser (due South)
2. Dean Winchester (Supernatural)
3. Lee Stetson (Scarecrow & Mrs. King)
4. Blair Sandburg (The Sentinel)
5. Phil Coulson (MCU)
6. Len Snart aka Captain Cold (Flash/Legends of Tomorrow)
7. Ray Kowalski (due South)
8. Amanda King (Scarecrow & Mrs. King)
9. Jim Ellison (The Sentinel)
10. Barry Allen aka Flash (Flash)
11. Clint Barton aka Hawkeye (MCU)
12. Lisa Snart aka Golden Glider (Flash)
13. Ray Vecchio (due South)
14. Frannie Vecchio (due South)
15. Natasha Romanov aka Black Widow (MCU)
Who on the list would Len Snart most want to...
a) marry
b) shag
c) push off a cliff?
Taking this one in opposite order!
Len stifled yet another sigh, but made no effort to hide his boredom. Seriously, what was it with guys in red being such sanctimonious do-gooders? He half-regretted leaving his cold gun behind for this, because his promise to Scarlet aside, he was itching to ice this guy, if only to shut him up.
But no, he’d decided to pull this heist as Len Snart, not Captain Cold, so he’d left it behind. After all, Chicago had no super-heroes to slow him down, so it should have been a cakewalk. He hadn’t figured a crazy Mountie into his plans, hadn’t even heard there was one working with the local cops. And considering this one also seemed to work with a wolf, he was… unique enough that Len should have heard something. Once he was released (and that shouldn’t be too long, considering this Fraser guy had stopped him before he’d really gotten anything, so combined with his newly-clean record they had nearly nothing on him), he had an informant to visit.
Len forced himself to tune back in. Letting Constable Benton Fraser think he’d made an impression, a difference in poor misguided Leonard Snart’s life seemed like the quickest way out of the station. He was done wasting time here.
****
Len made it a point not to fuck around (literally or figuratively) when he was doing a job. He was nothing if not precise; looking at all the angles and timing everything down to the second was how he’d stayed ahead of the cops for so long, after all. So when he pulled a heist it was go in, get exactly what he came for, nothing more and nothing less, and get out.
In the more literal sense, getting involved, even if only physically, with someone you worked with? Not smart. Letting someone that close meant giving them a chance to find a vulnerability. Or else might give them the idea that what he saw as just a release of tension was something more, and there were few things Len hated more than clingy sentimentality.
All that said, he was only human, so there were times he was tempted to break his own rule. Two in particular came to mind.
The first was a fiery Russian assassin he’d heard about for years, mostly rumors he’d filed away as improbable, well, until he’d seen her in action for himself. Luckily, he wasn't her target - they just happened to be at the same place at the same time, albeit for different reasons. Len made sure to stay our of her way, because he was many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. Ruthless, efficient in her kills, no wasted movement, total command of the environment - she definitely piqued his interest in more ways than one. Beautiful, competent and deadly were an intoxicating combination. But if some of what he’d heard had been true, then all of it could be. And Len liked his balls right where they were, thank you very much. So he kept his distance, pretending he hadn't seen anything. He got the distinct impression it was the only reason he’d been allowed to leave the crime scene in one piece. He made sure no one, not even Lisa, knew he’d gotten to see Black Widow in action.
The second time had that same heady mix of competence and danger, but in a very different package. When Len had heard there was some new alphabet agency spook in town, he hadn't been too worried. After all, while his heists were by no means small potatoes, neither were they anything requiring that kind of government intervention. Still, he knew better than to ignore the problem entirely - that was just sloppy. So he did a bit of research, and then a bit more, as much as he could without tripping any alerts. What little intel he got told him more than a complete open file on anyone else. This guy was serious business, the spook's spook, name withheld, not even a grainy traffic-cam photo to identify him. It made Len glad he wasn't who the guy was after, but it only piqued his curiosity. Since he couldn't track down the mystery agent, he went at it from the other side, finding out just who they were after, and making sure he had a front-row seat for the takedown.
It had been a thing of beauty: quiet, precise, planned to the letter. The idiots didn't even see it coming, walked right into the agent's trap. And as they were cuffed and stuffed into a nondescript black van, Len finally got a look at the man behind the plan, and was surprised to see it was a face he recognized. He'd seen the guy somewhere recently - coffee shop maybe, or the diner he'd eaten at the night before? Seen him and discounted him as harmless. No way he'd do that now. The man was confidence personified, handling questions from several agents at once with calm and poise, while keeping a close watch on everything around him. Len would bet there wasn't a speck of dust on that fine black suit he filled out so nicely, despite the seediness of the neighborhood.
He reminded Len of himself, and Len was just narcissistic enough to find that a turn-on. Too bad he was on the opposite side of the law.
****
If you'd asked him, Len would have told you he wasn't the marrying kind. The idea had never appealed, and not just because of his preference for men. Even once it became a real possibility for him no matter who his partner might be, Len never gave it a serious thought. The idea of spending all that time with one person was inconceivable.
He liked his life the way it was, keeping his distance from all but a very select few, making sure he was only responsible for taking care of himself (and Lisa, when she'd let him). He had a very small circle of friends, his sister, and a variety of less-than honorable folk he could call upon when he needed a specific skill set for a job. It was enough.
Until Barry Allen.
Til his dying day, he'd never be able to tell you what it was about the kid that got under his skin, that grabbed tight and wouldn't let go. Was it his openness, his unwavering faith that everyone (that Len) had the potential for bettering themselves and the world? His bright smile, or how easy it was to get him to blush? His playful, mischievous side, or how deep his feelings ran?
It was likely all of that and more. All Len knew was that for the first and only time in his life, he'd found someone who made him stop wanting to count the seconds and just experience them. And he figured if Barry could do that, then maybe a lifetime together wouldn't be such a bad thing after all.
Lee Stetson and Jim Ellison discover the existence of fanfiction and bond over their shared passion for reading slash about Len Snart/Barry Allen (aka ColdFlash).
You'd think Lee would have been the one that got caught reading, what with Jim being the Sentinel and all. But no, Jim had been so engrossed in the fic (but only because he was trying to pretend the agent didn't exist, of course) he was reading over his phone (because yes, Sentinel senses did have advantages, like reading tiny type) that he hadn't noticed Lee coming up behind him, and reading over Jim's shoulder where he was hunched over his desk.
Jim was going to play it off, but Lee made the mistake of actually using the word ColdFlash when he teased Jim about it. Jim pounced on it immediately, and both decided that pretending they didn't read slashfic was frankly ridiculous. Well, to each other at least. Especially since they got to trade recs.
When Simon and Blair returned with lunch, they were shocked at how well the two men were getting along. Neither of them ever explained, but they did make sure to exchange contact info before Lee headed back to DC.
RayK and RayV become contestants on Ice Road Truckers. Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov are the truck maintenance crew.
OOOPS! note from miz - I totally screwed up who #4 was here. In my head it was RayK, and it wasn't until tonight, writing this post, that I realized it was Blair. But I like this, so I'm leaving it as is.
If you think having two Rays work for the same small ice trucking company would be confusing, you'd be absolutely right. It was like they were interchangeable, or worse, a lot of people thought they were the same guy. It got so bad that they finally decided to meet, try to figure it out. And wasn't that an eye-opener - the two looked nothing alike, so seriously, what was the problem? Even going by last names (because Kowalski and Vecchio sounded nothing alike, so that should have worked) didn't seem to fix it. They pretty much decided at that point that keeping in touch and untangling any mis-sent assignments themselves was their only hope. Luckily, despite their different backgrounds, the two got along pretty well.
The real reason for all the confusion was finally discovered when both Rays needed work done on their rigs at the same time. Turns out that one of the mechanics, Clint Barton, was something of a prankster, and has been perpetuating the “One Ray campaign” as he called it for months, for reasons only he understood. When he was found out, his partner Natasha cuffed him hard on the back of the head and promised it wouldn't happen again.
To the surprise of no one, she was as good as her word. And their rigs were in the best shape they'd been in a long while.
Benton Fraser and Phil Coulson go to the movies together - what do they agree on, and how does it go?
Fraser and Coulson, to the surprise of no one, have similar taste in movies. Basically, if it was a documentary, or in a foreign language (or double-time bonus - both!) they were happy as clams to watch it. Nature documentaries were the best, as it turned out - they gave Phil an escape from his work, and reminded Fraser of home, or at least of spending a lot of time growing up being outdoors.
What would Frannie Vecchio's home look like (assume modern day if necessary)?
If you'd asked Frannie when she was growing up what her dream house would look like, it would have been huge, palatial even, with tons of rooms, winding staircases and chandeliers (and of course staff to keep it all clean). And best of all, it would have been far, far away from her tiny neighborhood. But now, as she picks up yet another of Angelina's dolls and dodges whatever Lego masterpiece Rico's put together this time, she looks around the house, her house, the one she grew up in, the one she's raising her family in, and realizes she wouldn't have it any other way.
Ray K has to do a stand-up routine about Ray V that even Ray V will find funny.
So Jack and Dewey are assholes. That's the first thing Ray wants everyone to know. Seriously, they want to open a comedy club, that's fine, that's greatness. Let them embarrass themselves telling stupid jokes all day long if it makes them happy. It never worked for them at the 2-7, but maybe when alcohol got involved they'd be funnier.
And Fraser being Fraser, of course they had to go and “support your former compatriots, Ray. It's only right.” And of course Vecchio wanted to go too, and Frannie and basically the entire station, plus Stella, who for some reason thought Vecchio was worth a second look. So there they all were, one big unfunctional nonfamily. And Ray was getting by, even enjoying himself from time to time. Until Huey and Dewey decided it would be fun to bring up some of the gang and see if they could be funny too, and who got shoved up there first? You guessed it.
They even gave him a topic, like that would help. Ray wanted to slap them both upside the head with a stick. Slapstick, get it? Whatever. Point is, they thought it would be funny to have him talk about Vecchio, what it was like being him, all that. Like that was a source of humor for Ray. It's worth repeating that those two were grade A assholes. Because yeah, Ray could say stuff. A lot of stuff, and he could even make it funny. He, unlike some people, was a funny guy. But every line he thought of earned him a mental image of someone, either Fraser or Frannie or Stella, giving him a big old frown, or glare or worst of all, look of disappointment.
So he looked out at the room full of cops and their families, of people he didn't want to piss off, and scrambled for something to say. He saw Fraser watching him, look of complete confidence on his face, like he knew Ray would be freaking hilarious. And suddenly, he knew just what to do.
Ray did nearly a half hour set that had everyone laughing hard enough to bust a gut. The topic? What it was like being partnered with a crazy Mountie.
Clint Barton is secretly the Easter Bunny. Why and how?
Okay, so it isn't like Clint chose to be the Easter Bunny. He wants to make that clear. Seriously. I mean, he didn't even believe in well, anything like that until he accidentally got the gig. By taking out the previous Easter Bunny. Which was not his fault, by the way. Let's be clear on that, too. How was he supposed to know there'd be a giant rabbit crossing a dirt road in BFE, right when he was high-tailing it (and no, that was not in any way an intentional pun) away from an ex-client that didn't take kindly to him turning down their assignment?
So yeah, he'd (again, completely accidentally) mowed down the rabbit, sending his giant basket flying and filling the air around them with brightly colored eggs. The upside was that as soon as Clint had touched the basket, he'd been transported... somewhere. Wherever it was, he was now very far from anyone trying to gun him down. And if everything was just a little too bright and cheery and sunny, hey at least it was safe.
It had taken some serious questioning of his sanity, but Clint had finally been convinced not only that he was in Easter Town, but that he was the new spokesbeing for the place. It was a pretty cool job - he only had to be there a couple of times a year (who knew that magical talking animals would have the newest and best tech? He didn't want to think about the data charges, but he appreciated being able to do most of his consulting from afar). And for awhile there was a marked increase in purple eggs, stuff bunnies and chicks.
When he finally joined up with SHIELD, Clint never mentioned his second job. But he did make sure he always had a couple of days around Easter off. Because explaining his transformation from world's greatest marksman to giant, fluffy bunny? Not a thing he ever wanted to explain.
This entry was originally posted at http://mizface.dreamwidth.org/96588.html where there are
comments.
Here's the list:
1. Benton Fraser (due South)
2. Dean Winchester (Supernatural)
3. Lee Stetson (Scarecrow & Mrs. King)
4. Blair Sandburg (The Sentinel)
5. Phil Coulson (MCU)
6. Len Snart aka Captain Cold (Flash/Legends of Tomorrow)
7. Ray Kowalski (due South)
8. Amanda King (Scarecrow & Mrs. King)
9. Jim Ellison (The Sentinel)
10. Barry Allen aka Flash (Flash)
11. Clint Barton aka Hawkeye (MCU)
12. Lisa Snart aka Golden Glider (Flash)
13. Ray Vecchio (due South)
14. Frannie Vecchio (due South)
15. Natasha Romanov aka Black Widow (MCU)
Who on the list would Len Snart most want to...
a) marry
b) shag
c) push off a cliff?
Taking this one in opposite order!
Len stifled yet another sigh, but made no effort to hide his boredom. Seriously, what was it with guys in red being such sanctimonious do-gooders? He half-regretted leaving his cold gun behind for this, because his promise to Scarlet aside, he was itching to ice this guy, if only to shut him up.
But no, he’d decided to pull this heist as Len Snart, not Captain Cold, so he’d left it behind. After all, Chicago had no super-heroes to slow him down, so it should have been a cakewalk. He hadn’t figured a crazy Mountie into his plans, hadn’t even heard there was one working with the local cops. And considering this one also seemed to work with a wolf, he was… unique enough that Len should have heard something. Once he was released (and that shouldn’t be too long, considering this Fraser guy had stopped him before he’d really gotten anything, so combined with his newly-clean record they had nearly nothing on him), he had an informant to visit.
Len forced himself to tune back in. Letting Constable Benton Fraser think he’d made an impression, a difference in poor misguided Leonard Snart’s life seemed like the quickest way out of the station. He was done wasting time here.
****
Len made it a point not to fuck around (literally or figuratively) when he was doing a job. He was nothing if not precise; looking at all the angles and timing everything down to the second was how he’d stayed ahead of the cops for so long, after all. So when he pulled a heist it was go in, get exactly what he came for, nothing more and nothing less, and get out.
In the more literal sense, getting involved, even if only physically, with someone you worked with? Not smart. Letting someone that close meant giving them a chance to find a vulnerability. Or else might give them the idea that what he saw as just a release of tension was something more, and there were few things Len hated more than clingy sentimentality.
All that said, he was only human, so there were times he was tempted to break his own rule. Two in particular came to mind.
The first was a fiery Russian assassin he’d heard about for years, mostly rumors he’d filed away as improbable, well, until he’d seen her in action for himself. Luckily, he wasn't her target - they just happened to be at the same place at the same time, albeit for different reasons. Len made sure to stay our of her way, because he was many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. Ruthless, efficient in her kills, no wasted movement, total command of the environment - she definitely piqued his interest in more ways than one. Beautiful, competent and deadly were an intoxicating combination. But if some of what he’d heard had been true, then all of it could be. And Len liked his balls right where they were, thank you very much. So he kept his distance, pretending he hadn't seen anything. He got the distinct impression it was the only reason he’d been allowed to leave the crime scene in one piece. He made sure no one, not even Lisa, knew he’d gotten to see Black Widow in action.
The second time had that same heady mix of competence and danger, but in a very different package. When Len had heard there was some new alphabet agency spook in town, he hadn't been too worried. After all, while his heists were by no means small potatoes, neither were they anything requiring that kind of government intervention. Still, he knew better than to ignore the problem entirely - that was just sloppy. So he did a bit of research, and then a bit more, as much as he could without tripping any alerts. What little intel he got told him more than a complete open file on anyone else. This guy was serious business, the spook's spook, name withheld, not even a grainy traffic-cam photo to identify him. It made Len glad he wasn't who the guy was after, but it only piqued his curiosity. Since he couldn't track down the mystery agent, he went at it from the other side, finding out just who they were after, and making sure he had a front-row seat for the takedown.
It had been a thing of beauty: quiet, precise, planned to the letter. The idiots didn't even see it coming, walked right into the agent's trap. And as they were cuffed and stuffed into a nondescript black van, Len finally got a look at the man behind the plan, and was surprised to see it was a face he recognized. He'd seen the guy somewhere recently - coffee shop maybe, or the diner he'd eaten at the night before? Seen him and discounted him as harmless. No way he'd do that now. The man was confidence personified, handling questions from several agents at once with calm and poise, while keeping a close watch on everything around him. Len would bet there wasn't a speck of dust on that fine black suit he filled out so nicely, despite the seediness of the neighborhood.
He reminded Len of himself, and Len was just narcissistic enough to find that a turn-on. Too bad he was on the opposite side of the law.
****
If you'd asked him, Len would have told you he wasn't the marrying kind. The idea had never appealed, and not just because of his preference for men. Even once it became a real possibility for him no matter who his partner might be, Len never gave it a serious thought. The idea of spending all that time with one person was inconceivable.
He liked his life the way it was, keeping his distance from all but a very select few, making sure he was only responsible for taking care of himself (and Lisa, when she'd let him). He had a very small circle of friends, his sister, and a variety of less-than honorable folk he could call upon when he needed a specific skill set for a job. It was enough.
Until Barry Allen.
Til his dying day, he'd never be able to tell you what it was about the kid that got under his skin, that grabbed tight and wouldn't let go. Was it his openness, his unwavering faith that everyone (that Len) had the potential for bettering themselves and the world? His bright smile, or how easy it was to get him to blush? His playful, mischievous side, or how deep his feelings ran?
It was likely all of that and more. All Len knew was that for the first and only time in his life, he'd found someone who made him stop wanting to count the seconds and just experience them. And he figured if Barry could do that, then maybe a lifetime together wouldn't be such a bad thing after all.
Lee Stetson and Jim Ellison discover the existence of fanfiction and bond over their shared passion for reading slash about Len Snart/Barry Allen (aka ColdFlash).
You'd think Lee would have been the one that got caught reading, what with Jim being the Sentinel and all. But no, Jim had been so engrossed in the fic (but only because he was trying to pretend the agent didn't exist, of course) he was reading over his phone (because yes, Sentinel senses did have advantages, like reading tiny type) that he hadn't noticed Lee coming up behind him, and reading over Jim's shoulder where he was hunched over his desk.
Jim was going to play it off, but Lee made the mistake of actually using the word ColdFlash when he teased Jim about it. Jim pounced on it immediately, and both decided that pretending they didn't read slashfic was frankly ridiculous. Well, to each other at least. Especially since they got to trade recs.
When Simon and Blair returned with lunch, they were shocked at how well the two men were getting along. Neither of them ever explained, but they did make sure to exchange contact info before Lee headed back to DC.
RayK and RayV become contestants on Ice Road Truckers. Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov are the truck maintenance crew.
OOOPS! note from miz - I totally screwed up who #4 was here. In my head it was RayK, and it wasn't until tonight, writing this post, that I realized it was Blair. But I like this, so I'm leaving it as is.
If you think having two Rays work for the same small ice trucking company would be confusing, you'd be absolutely right. It was like they were interchangeable, or worse, a lot of people thought they were the same guy. It got so bad that they finally decided to meet, try to figure it out. And wasn't that an eye-opener - the two looked nothing alike, so seriously, what was the problem? Even going by last names (because Kowalski and Vecchio sounded nothing alike, so that should have worked) didn't seem to fix it. They pretty much decided at that point that keeping in touch and untangling any mis-sent assignments themselves was their only hope. Luckily, despite their different backgrounds, the two got along pretty well.
The real reason for all the confusion was finally discovered when both Rays needed work done on their rigs at the same time. Turns out that one of the mechanics, Clint Barton, was something of a prankster, and has been perpetuating the “One Ray campaign” as he called it for months, for reasons only he understood. When he was found out, his partner Natasha cuffed him hard on the back of the head and promised it wouldn't happen again.
To the surprise of no one, she was as good as her word. And their rigs were in the best shape they'd been in a long while.
Benton Fraser and Phil Coulson go to the movies together - what do they agree on, and how does it go?
Fraser and Coulson, to the surprise of no one, have similar taste in movies. Basically, if it was a documentary, or in a foreign language (or double-time bonus - both!) they were happy as clams to watch it. Nature documentaries were the best, as it turned out - they gave Phil an escape from his work, and reminded Fraser of home, or at least of spending a lot of time growing up being outdoors.
What would Frannie Vecchio's home look like (assume modern day if necessary)?
If you'd asked Frannie when she was growing up what her dream house would look like, it would have been huge, palatial even, with tons of rooms, winding staircases and chandeliers (and of course staff to keep it all clean). And best of all, it would have been far, far away from her tiny neighborhood. But now, as she picks up yet another of Angelina's dolls and dodges whatever Lego masterpiece Rico's put together this time, she looks around the house, her house, the one she grew up in, the one she's raising her family in, and realizes she wouldn't have it any other way.
Ray K has to do a stand-up routine about Ray V that even Ray V will find funny.
So Jack and Dewey are assholes. That's the first thing Ray wants everyone to know. Seriously, they want to open a comedy club, that's fine, that's greatness. Let them embarrass themselves telling stupid jokes all day long if it makes them happy. It never worked for them at the 2-7, but maybe when alcohol got involved they'd be funnier.
And Fraser being Fraser, of course they had to go and “support your former compatriots, Ray. It's only right.” And of course Vecchio wanted to go too, and Frannie and basically the entire station, plus Stella, who for some reason thought Vecchio was worth a second look. So there they all were, one big unfunctional nonfamily. And Ray was getting by, even enjoying himself from time to time. Until Huey and Dewey decided it would be fun to bring up some of the gang and see if they could be funny too, and who got shoved up there first? You guessed it.
They even gave him a topic, like that would help. Ray wanted to slap them both upside the head with a stick. Slapstick, get it? Whatever. Point is, they thought it would be funny to have him talk about Vecchio, what it was like being him, all that. Like that was a source of humor for Ray. It's worth repeating that those two were grade A assholes. Because yeah, Ray could say stuff. A lot of stuff, and he could even make it funny. He, unlike some people, was a funny guy. But every line he thought of earned him a mental image of someone, either Fraser or Frannie or Stella, giving him a big old frown, or glare or worst of all, look of disappointment.
So he looked out at the room full of cops and their families, of people he didn't want to piss off, and scrambled for something to say. He saw Fraser watching him, look of complete confidence on his face, like he knew Ray would be freaking hilarious. And suddenly, he knew just what to do.
Ray did nearly a half hour set that had everyone laughing hard enough to bust a gut. The topic? What it was like being partnered with a crazy Mountie.
Clint Barton is secretly the Easter Bunny. Why and how?
Okay, so it isn't like Clint chose to be the Easter Bunny. He wants to make that clear. Seriously. I mean, he didn't even believe in well, anything like that until he accidentally got the gig. By taking out the previous Easter Bunny. Which was not his fault, by the way. Let's be clear on that, too. How was he supposed to know there'd be a giant rabbit crossing a dirt road in BFE, right when he was high-tailing it (and no, that was not in any way an intentional pun) away from an ex-client that didn't take kindly to him turning down their assignment?
So yeah, he'd (again, completely accidentally) mowed down the rabbit, sending his giant basket flying and filling the air around them with brightly colored eggs. The upside was that as soon as Clint had touched the basket, he'd been transported... somewhere. Wherever it was, he was now very far from anyone trying to gun him down. And if everything was just a little too bright and cheery and sunny, hey at least it was safe.
It had taken some serious questioning of his sanity, but Clint had finally been convinced not only that he was in Easter Town, but that he was the new spokesbeing for the place. It was a pretty cool job - he only had to be there a couple of times a year (who knew that magical talking animals would have the newest and best tech? He didn't want to think about the data charges, but he appreciated being able to do most of his consulting from afar). And for awhile there was a marked increase in purple eggs, stuff bunnies and chicks.
When he finally joined up with SHIELD, Clint never mentioned his second job. But he did make sure he always had a couple of days around Easter off. Because explaining his transformation from world's greatest marksman to giant, fluffy bunny? Not a thing he ever wanted to explain.
This entry was originally posted at http://mizface.dreamwidth.org/96588.html where there are
comments.