Of Children, Ice, and Baseball Caps
Title: Of Children, Ice, and Baseball Caps
Characters: Iris West, Captain Cold, Barry Allen (mention)
Word count: 6798
Summary: Iris finds a new story. Set in the New 52 (spoilers for Flash issue #6).
Warnings: Sex. Implied violence against children
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AN: I'm running on the assumptions that in issue #7 (a) Lisa was cured by Flash-powered energy when Barry found out about her, though she hasn't fully recovered and woken up yet, and (b) Cold got away
Iris is enjoying a late lunch in the park on a Saturday. It's a lovely, sunny day and Iris is making the most of it. She sips her coffee while turning the page in her new book. It's been a while since she read for pleasure and right here and now, the sun warming her hair, it's a little slice of heaven.
Of course, it being the weekend, there are families making use of the pleasant weather too. Kids run back and forth with balls, frisbees, and all manner of toys. A little girl trips over the corner of Iris' blanket, but scrambles to her feet and starts running after her friends without a care. It makes Iris smile.
Iris manages to get through another three pages before something else interrupts her. The sobs of a child sound loudly in the area. Iris looks up and sees a crowd forming. She gets up, digging her notepad out of her bag and heading over. She didn't just get into reporting because it was something she was good at.
Iris pushes her way to the front of the crowd with years of practise behind her. People have formed a ring around two men, a woman, and two children - a boy and a girl. One of the men has a tight grip around the boy's arm, the boy himself is biting his lip with unshed tears shinning in his eyes. The girl is holding a ragged dolly and is the source of the sobs. The other man and the woman are both arguing with the first man.
“- start an investigation,” the woman is saying - a little snootily if Iris says so herself, “You'll get put away for this.”
“You can't tell me how to raise my fucking kids,” the first man is shouting right back.
“You're not fit to be a father,” the second man says, anger colouring more than just his voice.
“It's none of your -” the first man starts to snap.
Iris is about to wade into the fight herself when someone breaks away from the crowd. In one swift movement, the newcomer pushes past the arguing couple and punches the first man in the face. He falls, letting go of the boy's arm in surprise.
“Fucking bastard,” the fallen man spits out with a mouthful of blood, “I'll get you done for assault!”
“Go ahead,” Iris almost chokes when she hears the voice, because Captain Cold didn't just defend a pair of children he doesn't know, “No one will care.”
About half the crowd tries to back away from the fight, but the other half haven't twigged quite yet. Iris assumes it's because Cold's dressed casually, rather than in the blue and white they're used to. The punched man appears to be one of the ones who hasn't realised, because he gets up and takes a swing at Cold.
Cold doesn't even bother using his new powers. He catches the guy's hand, delivers a knee to his stomach, and follows it up with clap around the ear that'll probably have it ringing for the next week. The guy collapses, hitting the ground heavily again.
The kids huddle together, not entirely sure if the new man is to be feared or not, but at least they're not trying to help their father. The boy is bigger than the girl and is standing between his sister and the fight. He's shaking, but he's going to protect his sister from anything.
Iris' hand is working hard to make enough notes, though she's fairly certain she won't forget this. Cold turns away from the man and looks down at the kids. They huddle closer together, even as the boy tries to look unscared in the face of danger.
To the surprise of everyone - Iris included - Cold crouches down in front of the kids and pulls the boy's arm forward gently. There's a nasty bruise forming and the boy flinches.
“You see that woman?” to Iris' greater surprise, Cold's pointing at her, “She's Iris West, and if you tell her your names she'll make sure you end up somewhere safe. Got that?”
“You hit my dad,” the boy says, though not really all that accusingly.
“He hit you first,” Cold says simply.
Cold holds his hand against the boy's arm, and when he removes it, the bruise is covered in ice. The girl pokes at it and shyly mumbles something that Iris can't quite hear. Cold gives what could be a real smile and does the same to her dolly.
Cold stands back up and gives the kids a small shove toward Iris. He tips the stupid baseball cap he's wearing towards her, then pushes his way out of the crowds. Iris wants to follow, but the boy pulls his sister toward Iris, all full of determination and terror.
“I'm Daniel Forbes,” the boy says, “And this is Jessica Forbes.”
Iris scribbles down the names in the notepad. “And you are how old?”
“I'm nine,” Daniel says, “Jessy's five.”
“If you'll come with me,” the woman from earlier intercedes. The man from earlier has taken off his tie and has used it as an impromptu pair of handcuffs on the slightly dazed man Cold had knocked about. “I'm Janet Holcomb from the department of social services. You shouldn't be talking to a criminal endorsed reporter.” The way she says reporter is similar to how other people would say 'plague rat'.
The children don't make any move toward Janet. Iris thinks she can vaguely remember hearing that name in connection with child welfare, so she nudges the kids forward, though not before she's noted down the name and department.
“I'll come check up on you tomorrow, ok?” Iris says.
“With the ice man?” Jessica asks shyly, hiding behind her dolly.
“We'll see,” Iris says, though she of course means 'not a chance'.
It looks like Daniel's figured out her real meaning, if his frown is anything to go by, but he just pulls his sister towards Janet without saying anything. Janet welcomes them with open arms.
Iris pushes her way back through the crowds and heads after Cold. She can't see him, but it's fairly easy to follow the trail of bystanders and families that are either packing up quickly, or staring in a certain direction with puzzlement on their faces. Obviously Cold needs to work on his disguises a bit more.
Iris picks up her pace, if he gets out of the park there isn't any way she'll still be able to track him. Just past another copse she catches sight of Cold again. Iris jogs forward and manages to get level with him.
“'In another hard-hitting exposé from Iris West, is our feared Captain really all that Cold?'” Iris says to catch his attention.
“Didn't I slow you down with a couple of kids?” Cold snaps, not even looking at her.
“That woman was from child-services, they're better off with her right now,” Iris says. Cold snorts, so she continues, “What would you have had me do? I've got no experience with kids besides a nephew I see once in a blue moon.”
“You'll follow it up,” Cold says, it's not a question.
“Of course,” Iris shoots back, slightly affronted at the implication, “I'm dedicated to my job. Speaking of which, any quotes from our saviour of small children?”
“Fuck off,” Cold says.
“How could I ever expect anything else?” Iris mutters.
They're nearing the edge of the park and Iris is fairly certain that she's going to lose her lead if they end up back on the main roads. Then something else springs to mind.
“Dammit all,” Iris sighs.
It's apparently out of character enough for her to make Cold give her a sideways glance. “Reporter senses picking up something you can't get to on the other side of town?”
“I left my book back on the grass,” Iris says, “It was a new book too. Plus my blanket's going to get stolen,”
“So go fetch it,” Cold says, “I'm not stopping you.”
Iris makes a split-second decision and grabs Cold's arm and starts dragging him back towards where her book is. His skin is chilly, but nowhere near the freezing levels she'd expected.
“Hey,” Cold pulls his arm back, but isn't making a move towards the exit, “I'm not some damn dog. You can't just yank me wherever you please.”
“Answer my questions for the afternoon and I'll get you in to see those kids again,” Iris bargains.
“Why'd I want to see some snot-nosed brats?” Cold asks, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at Iris.
“To make sure they're in a good place,” Iris says, “It's not like you can just ask Mirror Master to check up on some random kids without spilling the whole story.”
“Which you're gonna be spilling in tomorrow's newspaper anyway,” Cold says.
“I want the truth,” Iris says, “The newspaper can have the story that fits without revealing everything. Leave me to my own devices and I'm sure there can be mention of you playing tea-parties with that little girl.”
“Maybe I just need to balance things out a bit,” Cold snarls and grabs Iris by the shoulders. His hands are icy now, Iris can feel the chill through the thin t-shirt she'd worn today, “Think their own reporter frozen would make front page?”
“Just the afternoon,” Iris says, forcing her teeth not to chatter, “It will give me much more time to focus on helping those children rather than hunting down another story. I won't call the police or the Flash.”
“It wouldn't surprise me if someone in that group hasn't already,” Cold says. He lets go of Iris and takes a step back, his eyes sweep very obviously up and down her, “But what's life without risk? You want me to spend an afternoon with you, Miss West? Why not?”
There's a bit of a leer in his voice, but Iris decides to take the high-ground and ignore it. She starts making her way back to her belongings and Cold steps into line beside her. He brushes his shoulders free of icicles that had formed when he threatened her.
“How much control do you have over your powers?” Iris asks, flipping her notepad to a new page.
“I thought this was just about today,” Cold says, “I'm not answering anything that might end up being told to the Flash.”
He says 'Flash' in the exact same way Janet had said 'reporters'. Iris has to bite her tongue or laugh at the comparison.
“Any comments on your attack on the river not two days ago?” Iris asks.
“No.”
Iris huffs and scowls at him. “This isn't going to work if you're not cooperative.”
“Ask the right questions and I'll consider it,” Cold says.
“What are 'the right questions'?” Iris asks.
“I thought you were the reporter,” Cold says, “You figure them out.”
“What made you stop and help those children?” Iris asks.
Cold is silent for a long moment before he answers. “No one else was doing anything.”
“There were two social service agents there,” Iris comments, scribbling away.
“No one else was doing anything useful,” Cold amends.
“It's not like assault can be lost in their open warrants list, like it can on yours,” Iris says, “Most people want to avoid questioning by the police.”
“They shouldn't care if they're doing the right thing,” Cold says.
“You're the last person I'd expect to hear talking about 'the right thing',” Iris says, her pen's going to run out of ink if she manages to keep up this pace.
“Just because I don't have any use for society's laws, doesn't mean I don't have my own,” Cold says, “I'm a criminal and a Rogue, but I'm not a monster. I don't hurt kids, it's not like they've done anything wrong.”
“And do the other Rogues follow your rules?” Iris asks.
There's a bit of hesitation about Cold when he answers this time. “Sometimes,” he says.
“We haven't seen any other Rogues for some time now,” Iris says, “Are all of them... changed like you are?”
Cold smirks. “I'll leave that for the Flash to find out for himself.”
He stops suddenly and Iris realises they've reached the edge of the open grass where her blanket is (thankfully still) lying. The crowds from before have mostly dispersed, but there are a couple of cops taking statements.
“I'll wait here,” Cold says.
“And how am I to know you won't just run off?” Iris asks.
“Followed you this far, haven't I?”
Iris rolls her eyes, but heads out to her blanket alone. It takes her a few minutes to roll it up and put everything back in her bag. Thankfully none of the officers approach her during that time and when she starts walking back to the tree-line, Cold's still waiting.
“Would you like to find some place to sit, or would you rather walk and talk?” Iris asks.
“Walk.”
“By the river?”
“Why not,” Cold shrugs.
Iris leads them toward the edge of the park, compiling a list of questions in her head. They're liable to change, depending on Cold's answers, but it's good to have an idea of where she wants the questions to lead.
“So, Leonard,” Iris starts, “Why were you feeling charitable enough to help out Daniel and Jessica?”
“Let's just say that not everything in my life is conspiring against me right now,” Cold says, “And leave it at that.”
“Spreading some of the good cheer around,” Iris says, “Not the usual behaviour of a supervillain.”
“Rogue,” Cold corrects, “No one said we have to be bastards all the time.”
“Just most of the time,” Iris says with a wry smile.
“You live the life I have and you see if you've got any reason to smile,” Cold says.
“A life that lead up to your becoming a criminal,” Iris says, “Any quotes for the impressionable young children out there on that?”
“Trying to get a second generation of Rogues to write stories about?” Cold asks, “We're not gonna take on anyone younger than Trickster.”
And so it goes on. Cold doesn't answer most of Iris' questions directly, but she's sometimes able to approach the subject from another angle and get something close to a satisfactory answer. Even if she doesn't get a full story out of this, Iris counts it as good practise for future reluctant interviewees.
It feels like no time at all before the sun is dipping behind the horizon. Iris shivers slightly and wishes she'd brought a jacket or something. How can such a sunny day turn into such a cold night? Cold doesn't look bothered by the change in temperature, but that could just be him trying to look macho.
“Do you actually support the Keystone Combines, or did you just steal the first thing you could find in your colours?” Iris asks, looking at the baseball cap Cold's wearing.
“Am I not allowed to support my team without getting the third degree?” Cold says, slightly defensively. He tugs the brim of his cap further down, a now-familiar gesture.
“I'm just curious what the Combines would say if they knew,” Iris says, “Maybe they'd be thrilled. Probably quite a publicity draw.”
Cold rolls his eyes. “The colours was a coincidence. And I had them first, so they're the ones doing the copying.”
“You couldn't have chosen another sport?”
“I like hockey,” Cold snaps, and he's definitely being defensive now, his arms are folded tightly across his chest.
“Stop getting worked up over nothing,” Iris says.
It's hardly the first time it's happened today. Cold's been quite bad at taking offence to innocent comments, though Iris has dealt with worse. At least Cold's not bitching about Iris' hair and make-up while she's still in earshot.
“I'm famished,” Iris says, “I know a good place around here that does take-away. Would you mind?”
That thankfully brings Cold out of the beginnings of his sulk and earns Iris a raised eyebrow. She takes that as affirmative and starts towards the chip shop.
“Spending the afternoon with me,” Cold says, “Dinner too. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were interested in me, Miss West.”
“I'm just after my story,” Iris says firmly.
“What's that lab-rat of yours going to say about this?” Cold asks.
“Barry?” Iris is surprised Cold even knows about that, “He's not my boyfriend.”
“Not exciting enough for you?” Cold says, and now he's got the grin because he's dong the teasing.
“Barry was perfectly nice,” Iris says hotly, “He's got a girlfriend now, another forensic scientist.”
“You really need to find a healthier way of being jealous,” Cold says.
“I'm not - ugh!” Iris gives voice to her frustration, “We're here, drop it.”
The chip shop is one of those one with florescent lighting advertising its dishes. The indoor lights are harsh and make everything seem old and grimy. Iris is glad the service is fast, because she knows she looks like a zombie under the lights. It's one of the reasons she doesn't bring normal dates here.
They each get a portion of fish and chips. Cold insists on paying, which Iris rolls her eyes at, but she lets him. If it makes him happy then she's more likely to get answers out of him. Each holding a cardboard box of food, they emerge onto the dark street. It's started to rain.
Iris digs into her bag with one hand, but it was such a nice day earlier, she hasn't packed an umbrella. There's a crackle behind her, then the rain stops. Iris looks up to see a crude umbrella made from ice sheltering her. She tries finding her own umbrella for a little longer before just giving in and letting Cold keep her dry.
“Not bad,” Iris says.
Cold doesn't quite grin like a giddy thirteen year old, but there's definitely something pleased about the way he's holding himself. Iris covers up her smile by starting to eat her chips. Cold has to hold his own box quite awkwardly to eat without letting Iris get wet, but he doesn't complain.
“I don't think there's another city in the world that has to consider if sudden downpours like this are due to the Weather Wizard or not,” Iris comments.
“This isn't,” Cold says, “Not flashy enough for Mardon. Besides, he has worked places other than the Gem Cities, you know.”
“Hmm,” Iris hums around a mouthful of chips.
Cold's relaxed somewhat, so Iris keeps the questions light to make sure he doesn't snap back to defensive and uncooperative again. The answers he's giving will probably be good on a 'villains as real people' piece. The papers occasionally try to run with that, amidst the anti-Flash stuff they are pumping out at the moment, but so far it has only ever been speculation.
The chip shop is just far enough from Iris' apartment that she can finish her portion during the walk home. She isn't consciously heading towards her apartment, but apparently her feet had decided to take her there and she finds herself at the building steps as she finishes her last few chips.
“I should probably let you get back to saving orphans and puppies,” Iris says.
“You'll follow up on those children,” Cold says and it's more of a question than it was before, “I don't want them to vanish into the system.”
Iris nods.
“Maybe you'll avoid that second generation of Rogues after all,” Cold says, “Goodnight, Miss West.”
“Wait,” Iris blurts out the word before her brain catches up with her mouth.
Cold waits. Iris has got to be crazy for even considering what she's thinking, but now the idea has gotten into her head and it's not dislodging in the slightest.
Cold can't be more than a couple of years older than Barry. If anything the new shock of white hair makes him look younger than he used to. He's not handsome in the tradition way, and definitely not like Barry is, but there's a certain rough attractiveness there, especially on the rare occasions he let his guard down and dropped the 'Captain Cold' mask.
Iris has had enough of people in masks and Patty with her stupid blonde hair and her clutch on Barry. Iris isn't a jealous woman by nature, but sometimes everything piles up and the slightest thing tips the balance. That's the reason, Iris firmly tells herself, that's the only reason she's reaching up to pull Cold down into a kiss.
Cold's wet from the rain and his skin in chilled from something more. He doesn't put much into the kiss until Iris nips at his lower lip, then he pulls her against him and takes control. He's rougher than Barry. There's a smashing sound as the ice umbrella falls to the ground, but Iris pays it no heed.
“Come upstairs,” Iris offers when they break apart.
A flash of something unexpected passes over Cold's face. Iris can only call it nervousness. What's he got to be nervous about? It's gone before she can blink and Cold's pasted on a smirk.
“I should start doing exclusives with you more often if this is the reward,” Cold says.
“I can still change my mind,” Iris warns him.
Cold just gives a laugh and opens the building's door for Iris.
Iris lives on the twelfth floor and she's surprised when Cold doesn't try anything in the lift. In fact he mostly keeps his hands to himself unless Iris initiates something. She honestly doesn't know what to make of it. Iris lets them both into her apartment and locks the door behind them.
Cold finally starts something and pulls Iris close for another kiss. She reaches up and takes off his cap and tosses it somewhere in the direction of her armchair. Cold pulls her closer and drops one hand down to squeeze her bum. Iris lets out an involuntary squeak and she can feel Cold smiling against her mouth.
“Bedroom's through here,” Iris says, pulling back and leading Cold through.
Cold manages to tug Iris' t-shirt off before they've gone through and get her bra unhooked before she's got the door closed. Iris lets her bra slip down her arms and arches back when Cold nuzzles up behind her, his hands reaching around to cup Iris' breasts.
It's feeling nice, then Cold's already-chilly hands suddenly get icy. Iris yelps and yanks herself out of his grip. Her scathing remark dies on her tongue when she sees Cold looking forlorn and shaking a layer of frost off his fingers.
“Shit,” Cold says, he sounds tired, “Sorry. Shit. I didn't mean for that to... shit.”
“Have you...” Iris starts carefully, “I mean since getting powers... have you had sex?”
Cold glares, but relents and shakes his head. “I'll go,” he says.
“Oh no,” Iris marches over and plants herself between him and bedroom door, “I was promised sex.”
Cold's now looking bemused, which is much better than feeling sorry for himself. Iris closes the distance and yanks him into a kiss, that's worked well enough so far. Cold's hands hesitantly settle on her hips, thankfully back to their usual temperature, if a little wet.
“Your turn,” Iris says, holding the edge of Cold's t-shirt.
He lets her pull his t-shirt over his head and Iris discovers that the smattering of hair on his chest and the thick trail that leads down into his trousers have turned white like the hair on his head. His skin is warmer to the touch here, though still colder than Iris' by some margin. She lets her hand run over his torso and finds he flinches slightly when her fingers trail up his sides.
“You're ticklish!” Iris can't help the giggle that escapes her.
“I am not!” Cold snaps, though he's smiling too.
Iris runs her fingers over the ticklish bits again and Cold grabs her wrists to stop her going any further. Iris smiles winningly and leans forward for a kiss. Cold lets her and his hands settle back on her hips again, while Iris' hands trace up his body to his shoulders.
He's got scars, more than any other man Iris has slept with. Some are old, very old, and some are much fresher. She catalogues them all, though she knows that asking about them will probably ruin the mood. Iris is fairly certain Barry doesn't have half as many scars, though she never made it this far with Barry.
Cold pulls them backwards until he hits the bed and sits back, dragging Iris with him. Iris groans as her skirt doesn't let her legs part enough to straddle Cold's lap properly. She gets back up and quickly unzips the skirt and pulls it off. Cold watches her and licks his lips when she turns to look at him again.
“Want things even again?” Cold asks, leaning back on one hand, while his other hand drops to his belt.
At Iris' nod, Cold kicks off his boots - Iris had slipped out of her shoes by the front door - and starts unbuckling his belt. Iris decides that there's not much point waiting and slips out of her knickers too. It absolutely had nothing to do with the fact that she'd chosen them for comfort over looks, since she definitely doesn't want to impress Cold, nope, not one bit.
Alright, enough denial.
Cold's grey boxers - looks like he's gone for comfort over looks too - join his jeans around his ankles and, before he has a chance to step out of them properly, Iris presses herself against him. Cold trips and falls back onto the bed again. This time Iris follows a lot more gracefully. She sits up over him and takes in the man in front of her.
There's what looks like a flush on his cheeks, if flushes consisted of a glittering layer of frost. Iris runs her fingers over it and finds his skin only a little cooler than normal, though wet. It's like he's been caught in the rain. Iris leans forwards and presses her lips against Cold's.
Cold gives a groan and his hands run up the insides of Iris' thighs. They stop just before her sex and rubs the skin around the juncture of her legs. Iris pulls back up and lets her hand trace down Cold's chest and stomach. Cold gives an appreciative hiss when Iris' fingers wrap around his cock and start rubbing it.
One of Cold's hands starts twitching inwards, then both vanish from Iris' legs. She's not entirely surprised to see him shaking off more ice, though she wishes he could've done it somewhere other than on the sheets.
“Fuck,” Cold breathes.
“That's the idea,” Iris says, feeling ridiculous for the words the instant they leave her mouth.
However, it makes Cold grin and Iris can only think back to some of his earlier fights with the Flash, when puns were the choice of the day. She uses her other hand to squeeze his balls gently and is rewarded with a slight faltering of the grin and a relaxed sigh.
Cold gives his hands one last shake, then slide one between Iris' legs. His fingers are still chilly, but Iris has realised that they're not going to get any warmer and she should just make the most of it. Two fingers trace the edges of Iris' lips, coaxing them further open. Another finger starts to dips inside Iris shallowly.
It's teasing and it's maddening. Iris tries to press herself further down, but that only pushes Cold's wrist, and subsequently hand, further down too. Iris rubs her thumb over the tip of Cold's cock, spreading the sticky liquid that's gathered there.
“Easy there,” Cold says, catching her hand with his free one, “It's been a while.”
Iris releases her hold on his penis and starts tracing her hand over his chest again. Cold removes his hand, then grabs Iris by the hips as he reverses their positions. Iris can't help a slight yelp at the sudden movement and hits Cold in the shoulder.
“A warning would be nice,” Iris says sternly.
She can feel Cold's grin as he licks and nips at her neck. “Condoms?” he asks.
“Bottom drawer,” Iris answers. Cold's already sat on the edge of the bed and leaning down when she remembers, “No, wait!”
Too late, Cold's already opened the drawer and is rummaging around for a condom. Iris can feel herself blush at his appreciative whistle on the other contents of the drawer.
“Kinky little minx, aren't you, Iris?” Cold says, grinning all the while.
“There's nothing wrong with it,” Iris says defensively.
“Oh, I agree,” Cold says, finally locating a condom and tearing the packet open, “I just didn't know they sold Flash negligees.”
“Want me to wear it for you?” Iris asks sweetly. She laughs at the look of absolute disgust on Cold's face.
“I'd go with something a little more tasteful,” Cold says, rolling the condom on and crawling over Iris, “I think you'd look good in blue.”
“You would,” Iris says. She's well aware that most other colours suit her far better than blue.
Iris spreads her legs and Cold guides himself to where she's wet and ready. It's a bit tight - it's been a while for her too - but Cold is good enough to wait for her to adjust before pushing deeper. In the meantime though, his shallow thrusts are just starting to hit the right spots.
Finally he's buried to the hilt and Iris holds him in place with her legs for a long moment. Cold lets her, while sucking a dark mark onto her collarbone. Eventually it's not enough to just have him there and Iris loosens her grip enough for him to start moving again.
Cold braces himself over Iris with his arms fully extended. It gives her a good view of his torso while also allowing him to look at her breasts. Iris can appreciate a good male body and, despite all the scars, Cold's quite fit. You have to be, to go up against the Flash so often and leave in one piece, Iris supposes.
Iris presses her fingers against the frost-flush that's started running down Cold's neck. He groans and his eyes flicker shut. Iris lets her other hand join in and she traces wobbly lines through the frost. Cold hisses and his rhythm gets thrown off for a moment. When he restarts it makes Iris gasp with the changed angle.
The melt-water running down Cold's body is a sight, particularly when he gives a shudder and it all freezes on the spot. Iris reaches up and pulls Cold down to kiss him. The rivets of icy interspersed with lukewarm skin feel peculiar and arousing all at once against Iris' body.
“My go?” Iris asks.
“Alright,” Cold mumbles into her mouth.
In a similar motion to before, Cold kneels up and grabs Iris' hips then rolls them over until she's on top. After the necessary adjustments, Iris settles down in Cold's lap. Whatever luck that's kept Cold's stomach, crotch, and thighs from freezing, Iris hopes it holds up. She's not sure if it's because on a normal human, that part of their body is the warmest, or if Cold's intentionally keeping the ice away.
Either way, no sense worrying on it, Iris decides as she places her hands on either side of Cold's head and starts to move. The angle's different again and Iris can change it to suit her as she needs. Cold wipes his hands free of frost again and cups Iris' breasts. She can't help it when she tenses up, but his hands remain a level of chilled that she can cope with.
Iris sighs with pleasure as his fingers get to work. It's good to have a man who knows what he's doing. Cold isn't her first one-night stand, but he is the one she knew best.
Cold lets go of her breasts as another shiver runs through him. His hands ice over and, when Iris glances over her shoulder, so have his feet. She's going to have a puddle at the end of her bed if this goes on too long. Though, at least Cold's begun to recognise when it's going to happen.
When his hands return this time, only one starts playing with her nipples. The other brushes up Iris' thigh and starts playing around the place where his cock is sliding into her body. Cold grins when he nudges her clitoris and Iris bites back a moan. He rubs mercilessly and Iris can't keep her rhythm steady in the slightest.
“Back on top,” Iris says. She's certain he wants to finish up that way and she doesn't want her orgasm interrupted by awkward manoeuvring.
“Pushy,” Cold grumbles, but he shifts them around again. This time he doesn't manage it as cleanly and slips out. Iris lets out a noise of pure frustration, but he doesn't leave her hanging for long and slides back in, making them both moan.
Cold holds himself up on his elbows this time and their bodies are much closer together. Iris angles her hips until he's hitting just the right spot and his body is rubbing against her deliciously.
“I'm going to -” Iris cuts herself off with a breathy gasp as everything becomes overwhelming. Her body squeezes around the intrusion and her back arches up against Cold. He doesn't slow down, if anything his thrusts get harder. It's exactly what Iris wants right now.
Iris rides the wave of her orgasm and comes back to herself in pieces. She's almost getting to the point where her body can't handle any more stimulation when Cold stiffens and gives a few more shaky thrusts before collapsing on her. He's heavy, but Iris doesn't care. She couldn't bring up the energy to care if the Flash himself walked in on them.
“How much of my bed have you iced?” Iris asks when she's got her breath back.
Cold grumbles, but pushes himself up and pulls out. He sits back on his heels and gives a short laugh as he deals with the condom. Iris frowns and pushes herself up too. She can't help sending him a raised eyebrow when she sees two cones of ice just under her pillow, presumably from where Cold's hands where when he came. They're splayed outwards, away from where Iris was lying. The bottom of the bed is in a similar state, but much more a blob of ice than the cone shapes from his hands.
“I've been meaning to change these sheets,” Iris says decisively.
“Bin?” Cold asks, holding up the knotted condom.
Iris waves him over to the corner of the room while she switches the quilt for her spare and bundles the wet one up against the wall. She can deal with it tomorrow.
“Well,” Cold says. Iris looks over at him. He's holding his boxers and looking to Iris for her decision.
“You'd better not soak these sheets too,” Iris warns him.
Cold slips into the bed behind Iris and, when he hesitates, Iris pulls his arm around her. He's still chilly, but Iris can deal with that. Cold slowly relaxes and he drops off soon enough. Iris doesn't last much longer before drifting off herself.
When Iris wakes up she's alone. The space next to her isn't warm, but then it wouldn't be with the way Cold has very little body heat. Iris can hear the shower going, so she fetches her dressing gown from the back of her door and starts clearing up the still-soggy sheets from last night. The quilt is spread over the open doors of her wardrobe to dry, while she stuffs the covers into the washing machine.
The shower shuts off and Cold emerges from the bathroom wearing Iris' towel around his waist. His hair is tufted up at the back where he must've missed smoothing it down after rubbing it dry.
“You better have left me some hot water,” Iris says.
“Do you think I need hot water?” Cold says.
Now Iris thinks about it, normally she would've been able to hear the heater when someone was showering. At least she doesn't have to worry about making her own shower quick.
“That's your next headline then?” Cold asks.
Iris blinks, thrown by the sudden hostility in his voice. “I don't think your shower temperature's going to be much of a seller.”
“What Rogues are like in bed,” Cold snaps, “You're probably going after Heat Wave next. Or Weather Wizard.”
“You think I would spread my legs for a headline?” Iris seethes, “That's - Last night had nothing to do with the paper. Nothing.”
Cold snorts. Iris wishes the orange and yellow striped towel would actually do its job and make Cold appear less threatening. Iris also wants to know where she dropped her bag yesterday, since it's got her taser in and she doesn't have any other form of defence against Cold.
“No, I'd bet you'd go after Mirror Master next,” Cold says, his smile is ice-sharp and looks like it's hurting him as much as Iris.
“I don't know how I ever thought you could be a half-way decent human being,” Iris snaps.
“Because you're willing to look over anyone's faults if it gets you your story,” Cold snarls, “Why else would you -” he cuts himself off and storms back into the bedroom, presumably to get his clothes.
Iris finds her anger draining as her reporter instincts latch onto a new lead. Cold's angry, but it doesn't look like Iris is really the cause - she hasn't had enough time to do anything to tick him off - so that means it's probably do to with Cold's low self-esteem.
After all, why else would Iris sleep with him if it wasn't for her story? Iris sighs and wonders how she always ends up with men who are such emotional basketcases.
Iris searches her living room until she comes across Cold's Combines cap and waits for him to finish getting dressed in the hopes that it might bolster his confidence somewhat. She turns the cap over and finds something scribbled on the label: 'To Lenny, happy 30th, love Lisa'. Iris wonders who Lisa is, to be the sort of person to buy Cold birthday presents.
Cold eventually returns to the living room and scowls when he catches sight of his cap in Iris' hands. When Iris tosses it at him underarm, he looks a little baffled. Maybe he was expecting her to rip it up or set it on fire or throw it as hard as she could at him.
“Leonard,” Iris uses his real name in hopes of convincing him of her sincerity, “Last night didn't happen because you're a Rogue or for my story. It happened because I thought I saw a glimpse of a good man inside you. Maybe I was wrong, but I like to think I'm good at getting people pegged.”
Iris is only making this clear because she likes the truth, and sending Cold away with the wrong impression of her is a lie... It might also have something to do with the fact that Iris doesn't want Cold to hate her - for future interview purposes, obviously.
“Guess you didn't offer to blow me in Iron Heights when I wouldn't give you your headline,” Cold says.
Iris wrinkles up her nose in distaste. “I use a lot of tricks to get my stories, but I will never stoop low enough to use my body in that way,” she says firmly, “Understand?”
A slight smile tugs at Cold's lips, one that's much more genuine than the sharp one he had on earlier. “Gotcha.”
Iris lets out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. “Well,” she says, “I've got to have a shower then I can start following up on those children from yesterday.”
“I'll leave you to it,” Cold says and starts heading for the door.
“Leonard?” Iris asks when he's got his hand on the door handle, “Who's Lisa?”
Iris can tell she's pushing her luck, even before Cold stiffens and the now-familiar crackle of ice forming sounds out. Cold forces his shoulders to relax and answers without looking back at Iris.
“My sister,” he says shortly.
He leaves before Iris can ask anything more, a pattern of frost glittering on the door as the only sign he was there. Not that Iris was going to chance anything further on the subject. She's got her lead though, along with several others.
Today looks like it could be a good day.
Characters: Iris West, Captain Cold, Barry Allen (mention)
Word count: 6798
Summary: Iris finds a new story. Set in the New 52 (spoilers for Flash issue #6).
Warnings: Sex. Implied violence against children
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AN: I'm running on the assumptions that in issue #7 (a) Lisa was cured by Flash-powered energy when Barry found out about her, though she hasn't fully recovered and woken up yet, and (b) Cold got away
Iris is enjoying a late lunch in the park on a Saturday. It's a lovely, sunny day and Iris is making the most of it. She sips her coffee while turning the page in her new book. It's been a while since she read for pleasure and right here and now, the sun warming her hair, it's a little slice of heaven.
Of course, it being the weekend, there are families making use of the pleasant weather too. Kids run back and forth with balls, frisbees, and all manner of toys. A little girl trips over the corner of Iris' blanket, but scrambles to her feet and starts running after her friends without a care. It makes Iris smile.
Iris manages to get through another three pages before something else interrupts her. The sobs of a child sound loudly in the area. Iris looks up and sees a crowd forming. She gets up, digging her notepad out of her bag and heading over. She didn't just get into reporting because it was something she was good at.
Iris pushes her way to the front of the crowd with years of practise behind her. People have formed a ring around two men, a woman, and two children - a boy and a girl. One of the men has a tight grip around the boy's arm, the boy himself is biting his lip with unshed tears shinning in his eyes. The girl is holding a ragged dolly and is the source of the sobs. The other man and the woman are both arguing with the first man.
“- start an investigation,” the woman is saying - a little snootily if Iris says so herself, “You'll get put away for this.”
“You can't tell me how to raise my fucking kids,” the first man is shouting right back.
“You're not fit to be a father,” the second man says, anger colouring more than just his voice.
“It's none of your -” the first man starts to snap.
Iris is about to wade into the fight herself when someone breaks away from the crowd. In one swift movement, the newcomer pushes past the arguing couple and punches the first man in the face. He falls, letting go of the boy's arm in surprise.
“Fucking bastard,” the fallen man spits out with a mouthful of blood, “I'll get you done for assault!”
“Go ahead,” Iris almost chokes when she hears the voice, because Captain Cold didn't just defend a pair of children he doesn't know, “No one will care.”
About half the crowd tries to back away from the fight, but the other half haven't twigged quite yet. Iris assumes it's because Cold's dressed casually, rather than in the blue and white they're used to. The punched man appears to be one of the ones who hasn't realised, because he gets up and takes a swing at Cold.
Cold doesn't even bother using his new powers. He catches the guy's hand, delivers a knee to his stomach, and follows it up with clap around the ear that'll probably have it ringing for the next week. The guy collapses, hitting the ground heavily again.
The kids huddle together, not entirely sure if the new man is to be feared or not, but at least they're not trying to help their father. The boy is bigger than the girl and is standing between his sister and the fight. He's shaking, but he's going to protect his sister from anything.
Iris' hand is working hard to make enough notes, though she's fairly certain she won't forget this. Cold turns away from the man and looks down at the kids. They huddle closer together, even as the boy tries to look unscared in the face of danger.
To the surprise of everyone - Iris included - Cold crouches down in front of the kids and pulls the boy's arm forward gently. There's a nasty bruise forming and the boy flinches.
“You see that woman?” to Iris' greater surprise, Cold's pointing at her, “She's Iris West, and if you tell her your names she'll make sure you end up somewhere safe. Got that?”
“You hit my dad,” the boy says, though not really all that accusingly.
“He hit you first,” Cold says simply.
Cold holds his hand against the boy's arm, and when he removes it, the bruise is covered in ice. The girl pokes at it and shyly mumbles something that Iris can't quite hear. Cold gives what could be a real smile and does the same to her dolly.
Cold stands back up and gives the kids a small shove toward Iris. He tips the stupid baseball cap he's wearing towards her, then pushes his way out of the crowds. Iris wants to follow, but the boy pulls his sister toward Iris, all full of determination and terror.
“I'm Daniel Forbes,” the boy says, “And this is Jessica Forbes.”
Iris scribbles down the names in the notepad. “And you are how old?”
“I'm nine,” Daniel says, “Jessy's five.”
“If you'll come with me,” the woman from earlier intercedes. The man from earlier has taken off his tie and has used it as an impromptu pair of handcuffs on the slightly dazed man Cold had knocked about. “I'm Janet Holcomb from the department of social services. You shouldn't be talking to a criminal endorsed reporter.” The way she says reporter is similar to how other people would say 'plague rat'.
The children don't make any move toward Janet. Iris thinks she can vaguely remember hearing that name in connection with child welfare, so she nudges the kids forward, though not before she's noted down the name and department.
“I'll come check up on you tomorrow, ok?” Iris says.
“With the ice man?” Jessica asks shyly, hiding behind her dolly.
“We'll see,” Iris says, though she of course means 'not a chance'.
It looks like Daniel's figured out her real meaning, if his frown is anything to go by, but he just pulls his sister towards Janet without saying anything. Janet welcomes them with open arms.
Iris pushes her way back through the crowds and heads after Cold. She can't see him, but it's fairly easy to follow the trail of bystanders and families that are either packing up quickly, or staring in a certain direction with puzzlement on their faces. Obviously Cold needs to work on his disguises a bit more.
Iris picks up her pace, if he gets out of the park there isn't any way she'll still be able to track him. Just past another copse she catches sight of Cold again. Iris jogs forward and manages to get level with him.
“'In another hard-hitting exposé from Iris West, is our feared Captain really all that Cold?'” Iris says to catch his attention.
“Didn't I slow you down with a couple of kids?” Cold snaps, not even looking at her.
“That woman was from child-services, they're better off with her right now,” Iris says. Cold snorts, so she continues, “What would you have had me do? I've got no experience with kids besides a nephew I see once in a blue moon.”
“You'll follow it up,” Cold says, it's not a question.
“Of course,” Iris shoots back, slightly affronted at the implication, “I'm dedicated to my job. Speaking of which, any quotes from our saviour of small children?”
“Fuck off,” Cold says.
“How could I ever expect anything else?” Iris mutters.
They're nearing the edge of the park and Iris is fairly certain that she's going to lose her lead if they end up back on the main roads. Then something else springs to mind.
“Dammit all,” Iris sighs.
It's apparently out of character enough for her to make Cold give her a sideways glance. “Reporter senses picking up something you can't get to on the other side of town?”
“I left my book back on the grass,” Iris says, “It was a new book too. Plus my blanket's going to get stolen,”
“So go fetch it,” Cold says, “I'm not stopping you.”
Iris makes a split-second decision and grabs Cold's arm and starts dragging him back towards where her book is. His skin is chilly, but nowhere near the freezing levels she'd expected.
“Hey,” Cold pulls his arm back, but isn't making a move towards the exit, “I'm not some damn dog. You can't just yank me wherever you please.”
“Answer my questions for the afternoon and I'll get you in to see those kids again,” Iris bargains.
“Why'd I want to see some snot-nosed brats?” Cold asks, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at Iris.
“To make sure they're in a good place,” Iris says, “It's not like you can just ask Mirror Master to check up on some random kids without spilling the whole story.”
“Which you're gonna be spilling in tomorrow's newspaper anyway,” Cold says.
“I want the truth,” Iris says, “The newspaper can have the story that fits without revealing everything. Leave me to my own devices and I'm sure there can be mention of you playing tea-parties with that little girl.”
“Maybe I just need to balance things out a bit,” Cold snarls and grabs Iris by the shoulders. His hands are icy now, Iris can feel the chill through the thin t-shirt she'd worn today, “Think their own reporter frozen would make front page?”
“Just the afternoon,” Iris says, forcing her teeth not to chatter, “It will give me much more time to focus on helping those children rather than hunting down another story. I won't call the police or the Flash.”
“It wouldn't surprise me if someone in that group hasn't already,” Cold says. He lets go of Iris and takes a step back, his eyes sweep very obviously up and down her, “But what's life without risk? You want me to spend an afternoon with you, Miss West? Why not?”
There's a bit of a leer in his voice, but Iris decides to take the high-ground and ignore it. She starts making her way back to her belongings and Cold steps into line beside her. He brushes his shoulders free of icicles that had formed when he threatened her.
“How much control do you have over your powers?” Iris asks, flipping her notepad to a new page.
“I thought this was just about today,” Cold says, “I'm not answering anything that might end up being told to the Flash.”
He says 'Flash' in the exact same way Janet had said 'reporters'. Iris has to bite her tongue or laugh at the comparison.
“Any comments on your attack on the river not two days ago?” Iris asks.
“No.”
Iris huffs and scowls at him. “This isn't going to work if you're not cooperative.”
“Ask the right questions and I'll consider it,” Cold says.
“What are 'the right questions'?” Iris asks.
“I thought you were the reporter,” Cold says, “You figure them out.”
“What made you stop and help those children?” Iris asks.
Cold is silent for a long moment before he answers. “No one else was doing anything.”
“There were two social service agents there,” Iris comments, scribbling away.
“No one else was doing anything useful,” Cold amends.
“It's not like assault can be lost in their open warrants list, like it can on yours,” Iris says, “Most people want to avoid questioning by the police.”
“They shouldn't care if they're doing the right thing,” Cold says.
“You're the last person I'd expect to hear talking about 'the right thing',” Iris says, her pen's going to run out of ink if she manages to keep up this pace.
“Just because I don't have any use for society's laws, doesn't mean I don't have my own,” Cold says, “I'm a criminal and a Rogue, but I'm not a monster. I don't hurt kids, it's not like they've done anything wrong.”
“And do the other Rogues follow your rules?” Iris asks.
There's a bit of hesitation about Cold when he answers this time. “Sometimes,” he says.
“We haven't seen any other Rogues for some time now,” Iris says, “Are all of them... changed like you are?”
Cold smirks. “I'll leave that for the Flash to find out for himself.”
He stops suddenly and Iris realises they've reached the edge of the open grass where her blanket is (thankfully still) lying. The crowds from before have mostly dispersed, but there are a couple of cops taking statements.
“I'll wait here,” Cold says.
“And how am I to know you won't just run off?” Iris asks.
“Followed you this far, haven't I?”
Iris rolls her eyes, but heads out to her blanket alone. It takes her a few minutes to roll it up and put everything back in her bag. Thankfully none of the officers approach her during that time and when she starts walking back to the tree-line, Cold's still waiting.
“Would you like to find some place to sit, or would you rather walk and talk?” Iris asks.
“Walk.”
“By the river?”
“Why not,” Cold shrugs.
Iris leads them toward the edge of the park, compiling a list of questions in her head. They're liable to change, depending on Cold's answers, but it's good to have an idea of where she wants the questions to lead.
“So, Leonard,” Iris starts, “Why were you feeling charitable enough to help out Daniel and Jessica?”
“Let's just say that not everything in my life is conspiring against me right now,” Cold says, “And leave it at that.”
“Spreading some of the good cheer around,” Iris says, “Not the usual behaviour of a supervillain.”
“Rogue,” Cold corrects, “No one said we have to be bastards all the time.”
“Just most of the time,” Iris says with a wry smile.
“You live the life I have and you see if you've got any reason to smile,” Cold says.
“A life that lead up to your becoming a criminal,” Iris says, “Any quotes for the impressionable young children out there on that?”
“Trying to get a second generation of Rogues to write stories about?” Cold asks, “We're not gonna take on anyone younger than Trickster.”
And so it goes on. Cold doesn't answer most of Iris' questions directly, but she's sometimes able to approach the subject from another angle and get something close to a satisfactory answer. Even if she doesn't get a full story out of this, Iris counts it as good practise for future reluctant interviewees.
It feels like no time at all before the sun is dipping behind the horizon. Iris shivers slightly and wishes she'd brought a jacket or something. How can such a sunny day turn into such a cold night? Cold doesn't look bothered by the change in temperature, but that could just be him trying to look macho.
“Do you actually support the Keystone Combines, or did you just steal the first thing you could find in your colours?” Iris asks, looking at the baseball cap Cold's wearing.
“Am I not allowed to support my team without getting the third degree?” Cold says, slightly defensively. He tugs the brim of his cap further down, a now-familiar gesture.
“I'm just curious what the Combines would say if they knew,” Iris says, “Maybe they'd be thrilled. Probably quite a publicity draw.”
Cold rolls his eyes. “The colours was a coincidence. And I had them first, so they're the ones doing the copying.”
“You couldn't have chosen another sport?”
“I like hockey,” Cold snaps, and he's definitely being defensive now, his arms are folded tightly across his chest.
“Stop getting worked up over nothing,” Iris says.
It's hardly the first time it's happened today. Cold's been quite bad at taking offence to innocent comments, though Iris has dealt with worse. At least Cold's not bitching about Iris' hair and make-up while she's still in earshot.
“I'm famished,” Iris says, “I know a good place around here that does take-away. Would you mind?”
That thankfully brings Cold out of the beginnings of his sulk and earns Iris a raised eyebrow. She takes that as affirmative and starts towards the chip shop.
“Spending the afternoon with me,” Cold says, “Dinner too. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were interested in me, Miss West.”
“I'm just after my story,” Iris says firmly.
“What's that lab-rat of yours going to say about this?” Cold asks.
“Barry?” Iris is surprised Cold even knows about that, “He's not my boyfriend.”
“Not exciting enough for you?” Cold says, and now he's got the grin because he's dong the teasing.
“Barry was perfectly nice,” Iris says hotly, “He's got a girlfriend now, another forensic scientist.”
“You really need to find a healthier way of being jealous,” Cold says.
“I'm not - ugh!” Iris gives voice to her frustration, “We're here, drop it.”
The chip shop is one of those one with florescent lighting advertising its dishes. The indoor lights are harsh and make everything seem old and grimy. Iris is glad the service is fast, because she knows she looks like a zombie under the lights. It's one of the reasons she doesn't bring normal dates here.
They each get a portion of fish and chips. Cold insists on paying, which Iris rolls her eyes at, but she lets him. If it makes him happy then she's more likely to get answers out of him. Each holding a cardboard box of food, they emerge onto the dark street. It's started to rain.
Iris digs into her bag with one hand, but it was such a nice day earlier, she hasn't packed an umbrella. There's a crackle behind her, then the rain stops. Iris looks up to see a crude umbrella made from ice sheltering her. She tries finding her own umbrella for a little longer before just giving in and letting Cold keep her dry.
“Not bad,” Iris says.
Cold doesn't quite grin like a giddy thirteen year old, but there's definitely something pleased about the way he's holding himself. Iris covers up her smile by starting to eat her chips. Cold has to hold his own box quite awkwardly to eat without letting Iris get wet, but he doesn't complain.
“I don't think there's another city in the world that has to consider if sudden downpours like this are due to the Weather Wizard or not,” Iris comments.
“This isn't,” Cold says, “Not flashy enough for Mardon. Besides, he has worked places other than the Gem Cities, you know.”
“Hmm,” Iris hums around a mouthful of chips.
Cold's relaxed somewhat, so Iris keeps the questions light to make sure he doesn't snap back to defensive and uncooperative again. The answers he's giving will probably be good on a 'villains as real people' piece. The papers occasionally try to run with that, amidst the anti-Flash stuff they are pumping out at the moment, but so far it has only ever been speculation.
The chip shop is just far enough from Iris' apartment that she can finish her portion during the walk home. She isn't consciously heading towards her apartment, but apparently her feet had decided to take her there and she finds herself at the building steps as she finishes her last few chips.
“I should probably let you get back to saving orphans and puppies,” Iris says.
“You'll follow up on those children,” Cold says and it's more of a question than it was before, “I don't want them to vanish into the system.”
Iris nods.
“Maybe you'll avoid that second generation of Rogues after all,” Cold says, “Goodnight, Miss West.”
“Wait,” Iris blurts out the word before her brain catches up with her mouth.
Cold waits. Iris has got to be crazy for even considering what she's thinking, but now the idea has gotten into her head and it's not dislodging in the slightest.
Cold can't be more than a couple of years older than Barry. If anything the new shock of white hair makes him look younger than he used to. He's not handsome in the tradition way, and definitely not like Barry is, but there's a certain rough attractiveness there, especially on the rare occasions he let his guard down and dropped the 'Captain Cold' mask.
Iris has had enough of people in masks and Patty with her stupid blonde hair and her clutch on Barry. Iris isn't a jealous woman by nature, but sometimes everything piles up and the slightest thing tips the balance. That's the reason, Iris firmly tells herself, that's the only reason she's reaching up to pull Cold down into a kiss.
Cold's wet from the rain and his skin in chilled from something more. He doesn't put much into the kiss until Iris nips at his lower lip, then he pulls her against him and takes control. He's rougher than Barry. There's a smashing sound as the ice umbrella falls to the ground, but Iris pays it no heed.
“Come upstairs,” Iris offers when they break apart.
A flash of something unexpected passes over Cold's face. Iris can only call it nervousness. What's he got to be nervous about? It's gone before she can blink and Cold's pasted on a smirk.
“I should start doing exclusives with you more often if this is the reward,” Cold says.
“I can still change my mind,” Iris warns him.
Cold just gives a laugh and opens the building's door for Iris.
Iris lives on the twelfth floor and she's surprised when Cold doesn't try anything in the lift. In fact he mostly keeps his hands to himself unless Iris initiates something. She honestly doesn't know what to make of it. Iris lets them both into her apartment and locks the door behind them.
Cold finally starts something and pulls Iris close for another kiss. She reaches up and takes off his cap and tosses it somewhere in the direction of her armchair. Cold pulls her closer and drops one hand down to squeeze her bum. Iris lets out an involuntary squeak and she can feel Cold smiling against her mouth.
“Bedroom's through here,” Iris says, pulling back and leading Cold through.
Cold manages to tug Iris' t-shirt off before they've gone through and get her bra unhooked before she's got the door closed. Iris lets her bra slip down her arms and arches back when Cold nuzzles up behind her, his hands reaching around to cup Iris' breasts.
It's feeling nice, then Cold's already-chilly hands suddenly get icy. Iris yelps and yanks herself out of his grip. Her scathing remark dies on her tongue when she sees Cold looking forlorn and shaking a layer of frost off his fingers.
“Shit,” Cold says, he sounds tired, “Sorry. Shit. I didn't mean for that to... shit.”
“Have you...” Iris starts carefully, “I mean since getting powers... have you had sex?”
Cold glares, but relents and shakes his head. “I'll go,” he says.
“Oh no,” Iris marches over and plants herself between him and bedroom door, “I was promised sex.”
Cold's now looking bemused, which is much better than feeling sorry for himself. Iris closes the distance and yanks him into a kiss, that's worked well enough so far. Cold's hands hesitantly settle on her hips, thankfully back to their usual temperature, if a little wet.
“Your turn,” Iris says, holding the edge of Cold's t-shirt.
He lets her pull his t-shirt over his head and Iris discovers that the smattering of hair on his chest and the thick trail that leads down into his trousers have turned white like the hair on his head. His skin is warmer to the touch here, though still colder than Iris' by some margin. She lets her hand run over his torso and finds he flinches slightly when her fingers trail up his sides.
“You're ticklish!” Iris can't help the giggle that escapes her.
“I am not!” Cold snaps, though he's smiling too.
Iris runs her fingers over the ticklish bits again and Cold grabs her wrists to stop her going any further. Iris smiles winningly and leans forward for a kiss. Cold lets her and his hands settle back on her hips again, while Iris' hands trace up his body to his shoulders.
He's got scars, more than any other man Iris has slept with. Some are old, very old, and some are much fresher. She catalogues them all, though she knows that asking about them will probably ruin the mood. Iris is fairly certain Barry doesn't have half as many scars, though she never made it this far with Barry.
Cold pulls them backwards until he hits the bed and sits back, dragging Iris with him. Iris groans as her skirt doesn't let her legs part enough to straddle Cold's lap properly. She gets back up and quickly unzips the skirt and pulls it off. Cold watches her and licks his lips when she turns to look at him again.
“Want things even again?” Cold asks, leaning back on one hand, while his other hand drops to his belt.
At Iris' nod, Cold kicks off his boots - Iris had slipped out of her shoes by the front door - and starts unbuckling his belt. Iris decides that there's not much point waiting and slips out of her knickers too. It absolutely had nothing to do with the fact that she'd chosen them for comfort over looks, since she definitely doesn't want to impress Cold, nope, not one bit.
Alright, enough denial.
Cold's grey boxers - looks like he's gone for comfort over looks too - join his jeans around his ankles and, before he has a chance to step out of them properly, Iris presses herself against him. Cold trips and falls back onto the bed again. This time Iris follows a lot more gracefully. She sits up over him and takes in the man in front of her.
There's what looks like a flush on his cheeks, if flushes consisted of a glittering layer of frost. Iris runs her fingers over it and finds his skin only a little cooler than normal, though wet. It's like he's been caught in the rain. Iris leans forwards and presses her lips against Cold's.
Cold gives a groan and his hands run up the insides of Iris' thighs. They stop just before her sex and rubs the skin around the juncture of her legs. Iris pulls back up and lets her hand trace down Cold's chest and stomach. Cold gives an appreciative hiss when Iris' fingers wrap around his cock and start rubbing it.
One of Cold's hands starts twitching inwards, then both vanish from Iris' legs. She's not entirely surprised to see him shaking off more ice, though she wishes he could've done it somewhere other than on the sheets.
“Fuck,” Cold breathes.
“That's the idea,” Iris says, feeling ridiculous for the words the instant they leave her mouth.
However, it makes Cold grin and Iris can only think back to some of his earlier fights with the Flash, when puns were the choice of the day. She uses her other hand to squeeze his balls gently and is rewarded with a slight faltering of the grin and a relaxed sigh.
Cold gives his hands one last shake, then slide one between Iris' legs. His fingers are still chilly, but Iris has realised that they're not going to get any warmer and she should just make the most of it. Two fingers trace the edges of Iris' lips, coaxing them further open. Another finger starts to dips inside Iris shallowly.
It's teasing and it's maddening. Iris tries to press herself further down, but that only pushes Cold's wrist, and subsequently hand, further down too. Iris rubs her thumb over the tip of Cold's cock, spreading the sticky liquid that's gathered there.
“Easy there,” Cold says, catching her hand with his free one, “It's been a while.”
Iris releases her hold on his penis and starts tracing her hand over his chest again. Cold removes his hand, then grabs Iris by the hips as he reverses their positions. Iris can't help a slight yelp at the sudden movement and hits Cold in the shoulder.
“A warning would be nice,” Iris says sternly.
She can feel Cold's grin as he licks and nips at her neck. “Condoms?” he asks.
“Bottom drawer,” Iris answers. Cold's already sat on the edge of the bed and leaning down when she remembers, “No, wait!”
Too late, Cold's already opened the drawer and is rummaging around for a condom. Iris can feel herself blush at his appreciative whistle on the other contents of the drawer.
“Kinky little minx, aren't you, Iris?” Cold says, grinning all the while.
“There's nothing wrong with it,” Iris says defensively.
“Oh, I agree,” Cold says, finally locating a condom and tearing the packet open, “I just didn't know they sold Flash negligees.”
“Want me to wear it for you?” Iris asks sweetly. She laughs at the look of absolute disgust on Cold's face.
“I'd go with something a little more tasteful,” Cold says, rolling the condom on and crawling over Iris, “I think you'd look good in blue.”
“You would,” Iris says. She's well aware that most other colours suit her far better than blue.
Iris spreads her legs and Cold guides himself to where she's wet and ready. It's a bit tight - it's been a while for her too - but Cold is good enough to wait for her to adjust before pushing deeper. In the meantime though, his shallow thrusts are just starting to hit the right spots.
Finally he's buried to the hilt and Iris holds him in place with her legs for a long moment. Cold lets her, while sucking a dark mark onto her collarbone. Eventually it's not enough to just have him there and Iris loosens her grip enough for him to start moving again.
Cold braces himself over Iris with his arms fully extended. It gives her a good view of his torso while also allowing him to look at her breasts. Iris can appreciate a good male body and, despite all the scars, Cold's quite fit. You have to be, to go up against the Flash so often and leave in one piece, Iris supposes.
Iris presses her fingers against the frost-flush that's started running down Cold's neck. He groans and his eyes flicker shut. Iris lets her other hand join in and she traces wobbly lines through the frost. Cold hisses and his rhythm gets thrown off for a moment. When he restarts it makes Iris gasp with the changed angle.
The melt-water running down Cold's body is a sight, particularly when he gives a shudder and it all freezes on the spot. Iris reaches up and pulls Cold down to kiss him. The rivets of icy interspersed with lukewarm skin feel peculiar and arousing all at once against Iris' body.
“My go?” Iris asks.
“Alright,” Cold mumbles into her mouth.
In a similar motion to before, Cold kneels up and grabs Iris' hips then rolls them over until she's on top. After the necessary adjustments, Iris settles down in Cold's lap. Whatever luck that's kept Cold's stomach, crotch, and thighs from freezing, Iris hopes it holds up. She's not sure if it's because on a normal human, that part of their body is the warmest, or if Cold's intentionally keeping the ice away.
Either way, no sense worrying on it, Iris decides as she places her hands on either side of Cold's head and starts to move. The angle's different again and Iris can change it to suit her as she needs. Cold wipes his hands free of frost again and cups Iris' breasts. She can't help it when she tenses up, but his hands remain a level of chilled that she can cope with.
Iris sighs with pleasure as his fingers get to work. It's good to have a man who knows what he's doing. Cold isn't her first one-night stand, but he is the one she knew best.
Cold lets go of her breasts as another shiver runs through him. His hands ice over and, when Iris glances over her shoulder, so have his feet. She's going to have a puddle at the end of her bed if this goes on too long. Though, at least Cold's begun to recognise when it's going to happen.
When his hands return this time, only one starts playing with her nipples. The other brushes up Iris' thigh and starts playing around the place where his cock is sliding into her body. Cold grins when he nudges her clitoris and Iris bites back a moan. He rubs mercilessly and Iris can't keep her rhythm steady in the slightest.
“Back on top,” Iris says. She's certain he wants to finish up that way and she doesn't want her orgasm interrupted by awkward manoeuvring.
“Pushy,” Cold grumbles, but he shifts them around again. This time he doesn't manage it as cleanly and slips out. Iris lets out a noise of pure frustration, but he doesn't leave her hanging for long and slides back in, making them both moan.
Cold holds himself up on his elbows this time and their bodies are much closer together. Iris angles her hips until he's hitting just the right spot and his body is rubbing against her deliciously.
“I'm going to -” Iris cuts herself off with a breathy gasp as everything becomes overwhelming. Her body squeezes around the intrusion and her back arches up against Cold. He doesn't slow down, if anything his thrusts get harder. It's exactly what Iris wants right now.
Iris rides the wave of her orgasm and comes back to herself in pieces. She's almost getting to the point where her body can't handle any more stimulation when Cold stiffens and gives a few more shaky thrusts before collapsing on her. He's heavy, but Iris doesn't care. She couldn't bring up the energy to care if the Flash himself walked in on them.
“How much of my bed have you iced?” Iris asks when she's got her breath back.
Cold grumbles, but pushes himself up and pulls out. He sits back on his heels and gives a short laugh as he deals with the condom. Iris frowns and pushes herself up too. She can't help sending him a raised eyebrow when she sees two cones of ice just under her pillow, presumably from where Cold's hands where when he came. They're splayed outwards, away from where Iris was lying. The bottom of the bed is in a similar state, but much more a blob of ice than the cone shapes from his hands.
“I've been meaning to change these sheets,” Iris says decisively.
“Bin?” Cold asks, holding up the knotted condom.
Iris waves him over to the corner of the room while she switches the quilt for her spare and bundles the wet one up against the wall. She can deal with it tomorrow.
“Well,” Cold says. Iris looks over at him. He's holding his boxers and looking to Iris for her decision.
“You'd better not soak these sheets too,” Iris warns him.
Cold slips into the bed behind Iris and, when he hesitates, Iris pulls his arm around her. He's still chilly, but Iris can deal with that. Cold slowly relaxes and he drops off soon enough. Iris doesn't last much longer before drifting off herself.
When Iris wakes up she's alone. The space next to her isn't warm, but then it wouldn't be with the way Cold has very little body heat. Iris can hear the shower going, so she fetches her dressing gown from the back of her door and starts clearing up the still-soggy sheets from last night. The quilt is spread over the open doors of her wardrobe to dry, while she stuffs the covers into the washing machine.
The shower shuts off and Cold emerges from the bathroom wearing Iris' towel around his waist. His hair is tufted up at the back where he must've missed smoothing it down after rubbing it dry.
“You better have left me some hot water,” Iris says.
“Do you think I need hot water?” Cold says.
Now Iris thinks about it, normally she would've been able to hear the heater when someone was showering. At least she doesn't have to worry about making her own shower quick.
“That's your next headline then?” Cold asks.
Iris blinks, thrown by the sudden hostility in his voice. “I don't think your shower temperature's going to be much of a seller.”
“What Rogues are like in bed,” Cold snaps, “You're probably going after Heat Wave next. Or Weather Wizard.”
“You think I would spread my legs for a headline?” Iris seethes, “That's - Last night had nothing to do with the paper. Nothing.”
Cold snorts. Iris wishes the orange and yellow striped towel would actually do its job and make Cold appear less threatening. Iris also wants to know where she dropped her bag yesterday, since it's got her taser in and she doesn't have any other form of defence against Cold.
“No, I'd bet you'd go after Mirror Master next,” Cold says, his smile is ice-sharp and looks like it's hurting him as much as Iris.
“I don't know how I ever thought you could be a half-way decent human being,” Iris snaps.
“Because you're willing to look over anyone's faults if it gets you your story,” Cold snarls, “Why else would you -” he cuts himself off and storms back into the bedroom, presumably to get his clothes.
Iris finds her anger draining as her reporter instincts latch onto a new lead. Cold's angry, but it doesn't look like Iris is really the cause - she hasn't had enough time to do anything to tick him off - so that means it's probably do to with Cold's low self-esteem.
After all, why else would Iris sleep with him if it wasn't for her story? Iris sighs and wonders how she always ends up with men who are such emotional basketcases.
Iris searches her living room until she comes across Cold's Combines cap and waits for him to finish getting dressed in the hopes that it might bolster his confidence somewhat. She turns the cap over and finds something scribbled on the label: 'To Lenny, happy 30th, love Lisa'. Iris wonders who Lisa is, to be the sort of person to buy Cold birthday presents.
Cold eventually returns to the living room and scowls when he catches sight of his cap in Iris' hands. When Iris tosses it at him underarm, he looks a little baffled. Maybe he was expecting her to rip it up or set it on fire or throw it as hard as she could at him.
“Leonard,” Iris uses his real name in hopes of convincing him of her sincerity, “Last night didn't happen because you're a Rogue or for my story. It happened because I thought I saw a glimpse of a good man inside you. Maybe I was wrong, but I like to think I'm good at getting people pegged.”
Iris is only making this clear because she likes the truth, and sending Cold away with the wrong impression of her is a lie... It might also have something to do with the fact that Iris doesn't want Cold to hate her - for future interview purposes, obviously.
“Guess you didn't offer to blow me in Iron Heights when I wouldn't give you your headline,” Cold says.
Iris wrinkles up her nose in distaste. “I use a lot of tricks to get my stories, but I will never stoop low enough to use my body in that way,” she says firmly, “Understand?”
A slight smile tugs at Cold's lips, one that's much more genuine than the sharp one he had on earlier. “Gotcha.”
Iris lets out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. “Well,” she says, “I've got to have a shower then I can start following up on those children from yesterday.”
“I'll leave you to it,” Cold says and starts heading for the door.
“Leonard?” Iris asks when he's got his hand on the door handle, “Who's Lisa?”
Iris can tell she's pushing her luck, even before Cold stiffens and the now-familiar crackle of ice forming sounds out. Cold forces his shoulders to relax and answers without looking back at Iris.
“My sister,” he says shortly.
He leaves before Iris can ask anything more, a pattern of frost glittering on the door as the only sign he was there. Not that Iris was going to chance anything further on the subject. She's got her lead though, along with several others.
Today looks like it could be a good day.