Snowfall
Title: Snowfall
Words: 1819
Characters: Mark Mardon, Evan McCulloch, Axel Walker, Len Snart, Mick Rory
Summary: It's beautiful when it snows in the twin cities, especially when it isn't Mark's fault.
AN: This was for the Flash secret santa on tumblr. My prompt was: "late" era Rogues (Evan, Len, Mark, Axel, Mick, possibly Digger). Mark/Evan, Mark/Len, Mark being a "role model" to Axel. For cooltrainershells. I received this: http://flashsecretsanta.tumblr.com/post/38805415148/poker-night for my own present.
This is set after Flashpoint, but assuming the world went back to how it used to be rather than rebooting.
Warnings: non-explicit sex.
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It's December in the twin cities. It's been a couple of months since the Central Flash did a run through time and everything's only just settled into place. Things from the wrong time period have stopped falling onto the cities and Flash appears to have his head on straight again.
Unfortunately for the Rogues, the Central Flash being back in the game brings the total number of speedsters up to too many for them to handle in one go. Most of their planning comes down to ways to distract or incapacitate the Flashes, not the score. It's plain annoying and tempers are rising all around.
Mark, of course, is the first to notice the snow falling out the window. He's not responsible and it's beautiful.
Mark just gets up and leaves from the rickety poker table they currently have the plans on. Len's arguing with Mick over something, Evan's busy with his mirrors, and Axel barely pays attention during planning anyway. Mark makes it to the roof without being called back.
It's a good flurry right now. Thick, white, soft snowflakes spiralling down and obscuring everything more than ten feet away. There hasn't been any rain for a few days so it's sticking nicely and will likely stay for a while.
Provided Mark doesn't mess with it.
Already there's the compulsion to interfere. Like seeing a field of unmarked snow, you just have put your footprint on it, sign your name, ruin the perfection. The weather wand buzzes in anticipation in Mark's hand. Sometimes it scares him that it's always ready when he is, but then he's the Weather Wizard, never Mark Mardon. Not any more.
He starts off small, adjusting a few gusts of wind, thickening the fog. He wonders if the Flashes think it's already him. Mark laughs as he sweeps the weather wand up, pulling the wind and snow with it.
"Laughin' on yer own's a wee bit mental, ken?"
Mark turns his head to see Evan watching him from a tarnished chimney pipe. Mark thinks he should be surprised that the Mirror Master's found enough reflection in the gloom and dull metal to work with, but Evan's always been good at finding his way through impossible places.
Mark tilts his head back and lets the hand holding the wand drop. The wand's buzzing and Mark can feel the charge running through his whole body.
"Coming out?" Mark asks, raising an eyebrow - not that it can be seen beneath the mask.
"Think I've got a fair view from here, ta," Evan says.
Mark grins and lounges back on the roof. He can feel the snow cold through his outfit, but the weather wizard costume is waterproof enough to keep the wet out. He closes his eyes and listens to the howl of the wind and thrum of the wand.
Mark runs a hand down his body, feeling lightning dance on his fingertips and arcs over the green and yellow fabric. He shivers, and not from the cold.
A warm hand on his thigh jolts Mark's eye open again. Evan's leaning over him, specks of white melting into damp all over his outfit. It doesn't look like he minds the cold, at least not until Mark twists them up and over, straddling Evan's hips as the Mirror Master is pushed onto the roof tiles.
Evan yelps. "This getup's no made fer rollin' in snow, ye ken?"
Mark laughs and shuts Evan up with a kiss. It's a sharp meeting of teeth more than lips and the clouds thicken above them with the savage meeting. There's a rumble of thunder as Mark presses down on Evan. A crash of lightning as cowl and mask get torn off.
The wand and the weather it calls to want to destroy, to smash upon the earth beneath. Mark follows its call, digging his fingers into Evan's biceps. There's a hard edge of grit against his palms. A mirror-duplicate then. Mark doesn't care, he only presses harder.
It's over in a burst of wind, one that pulls the disintegrating duplicate away out of Mark's grasp. He rolls onto his back and smirks over at the chimney.
"A fair enough view, aye," says Evan, returning the smirk.
The snow falls.
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The winds are howling, driving the few snowflakes that dare fall practically horizontal. Times like this Mark hates living in a warehouse, what with all the unsealed windows and cracks in the walls. At least the snow is helping block up the worst holes and keeping some of the wind out.
Axel's sat cross-legged in midair as usual, poking one of his airwalkers with a screwdriver. Mark can't tell if it's helping or not, but then all he's ever done with electronics is create a working weather wand from his brother's blueprints. Even after all this time, Mark can't say how the wand works.
"'Sup," Axel says, looking up from his work and noticing Mark nearby.
Mark gives him a nod in return. The wind's howling is muffled over here, but the sound is still causing Axel to shiver involuntarily whenever it picks up.
Mark's lost in ideas for the snowfall when Axel next speaks.
"So, do you guys do anything special for Christmas?" Axel asks, staring intently at his screwdriver and shoe.
"Christmas?" Mark repeats, shaking himself out of his thoughts.
"Yeah, you know, Christmas," Axel says, hunching his shoulders in, "Twenty-fifth of December. Presents and carols and shit."
"You're asking if we... give each other presents?" Mark says slowly, a smile playing around his mouth.
"Shut up," Axel says petulantly, "I'm not expecting anything sissy like that. I just haven't been around you guys for Christmas before, I just wanted to know if there's any special heists or plans going down, 'sall."
"We don't do Christmas," Mark says, "Capes tend to be extra pissy if you take them away from their 'special time' with their loved ones."
"So it's just a regular day?" Axel asks.
"Cold might break out the good booze and if there's a villain you'd like to invite over, Christmas is the one day you'll get close to a free pass," Mark replies, "Otherwise normal."
"Cool," Axel says.
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The weather warms up enough for the falling snow to turn into sleet. The freezing slush keeps far more people indoors than the snow ever did.
Unless your name's Captain Cold, then you spend every minute you can out in the icy weather.
Mark's watching the sleet from the upstairs office windows when Len walks in, shedding water, slush, a soaked jacket, and boots that must be at least half ice by now. Mark raises a hand in greeting, but doesn't look away from the windows and the weather beyond.
"Your doing?" Len asks. He's closer than Mark realised, watching the sleet outside too.
"No," Mark replies.
"Hmm," Len places a hand on Mark's hip, cold enough that Mark can feel it through his trousers.
"Good mood?" Mark asks, letting his forehead touch the icy glass of the window.
"Very," Len growls, pressing up against Mark's back.
Mark groans as Len's other hand twists in his hair and pulls his head back to bite at his neck. It's rough, but then Len's never gentle.
Mark doesn't look away from the sleet as they get into it. He doesn't know where Len gets the necessary supplies from, but he gives a grunt when Len pushes into him.
It's harsh and amazing, like being out in the winter weather. Len finishes with a shudder and moan, then, without pulling out, reaches around to help Mark finish off. Mark comes with a drawn out groan, his head pressed against his free forearm against the damp window.
"Here's hope for more of this weather," Len says, still against Mark's back, one large hand pressed flat against the window.
Mark snorts. "Hope?" he says derisively. It's a stupid word for a stupid concept.
Len chuckles. He doesn't say anything else on that topic, instead getting dressed and striking up a conversation on films. There'll be time enough for heists after the storm.
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The weather takes a turn for the worse, to the point that Christmas day is during the coldest snap Central City has seen in decades. Mick only moves away from his oil barrel fire in the main room to use the bathroom or get food.
Mark and Evan don't comment on the perpetually burning fire. Axel toasts marshmallows over it and Len only gives vague warnings as to what would happen if Mick decided to spread the flames.
Like Mark said earlier, Christmas day is nothing special. In the evening, Mick makes a large batch of hot chocolate that's mostly whiskey - Len gets a handful of snow from outside to cool his down, earning much bitching from Mick - while Evan uses the reflection on the TV screen to find entertainment for them, mostly consisting of family rows over Christmas dinner from the Twin Cities' residents.
After a few broken plates and a near-killing, Evan comes across a large family with a blond guy just walking in and apologising for being late. It's not the first time by the looks on the rest of the family's faces.
"Skip it," Len growls.
Evan does as told, they've all got some people they'd prefer not to see celebrating the season and there had been at least two reporters there that Len had crossed in the past.
There's a rather good food fight, a spectacular disowning, and a fire - that Mick particularly enjoys - in other households, so no one's bothered that they missed that guy being chewed out for being late. At some point Axel gets sent to find the brandy (it's the good stuff, Evan had stolen it from one of those houses that everything in it is worth more than an average person makes in a year) and the stories start flowing with the alcohol.
Somewhere between Len going over the tale of a Christmas party they'd invited Flash to - to try and do him in, of course - and Mick lighting several candles around the battered settees they're on, Mark finds himself nodding off. It isn't particularly late - though he can't be sure, he'd broken all the clocks in the place with a wonky bit of lightning once and the time display on the dvd player had never been set - but Mark is boozed up and warm.
He's jolted awake a bit by Axel slouching sideways and winding up with his head on Mark's shoulder. Mark makes a half-hearted attempt to push the kid off, but ultimately gives up.
"Best Christmas ever," Axel declares sleepily, just as Mark falls asleep again.
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January brings a warm spell and the ability to see the pavements again. Mark feels somewhat despondent as the weather and its effects clear up.
Things are back to normal then.
Words: 1819
Characters: Mark Mardon, Evan McCulloch, Axel Walker, Len Snart, Mick Rory
Summary: It's beautiful when it snows in the twin cities, especially when it isn't Mark's fault.
AN: This was for the Flash secret santa on tumblr. My prompt was: "late" era Rogues (Evan, Len, Mark, Axel, Mick, possibly Digger). Mark/Evan, Mark/Len, Mark being a "role model" to Axel. For cooltrainershells. I received this: http://flashsecretsanta.tumblr.com/post/38805415148/poker-night for my own present.
This is set after Flashpoint, but assuming the world went back to how it used to be rather than rebooting.
Warnings: non-explicit sex.
-------------------------------------------------------
It's December in the twin cities. It's been a couple of months since the Central Flash did a run through time and everything's only just settled into place. Things from the wrong time period have stopped falling onto the cities and Flash appears to have his head on straight again.
Unfortunately for the Rogues, the Central Flash being back in the game brings the total number of speedsters up to too many for them to handle in one go. Most of their planning comes down to ways to distract or incapacitate the Flashes, not the score. It's plain annoying and tempers are rising all around.
Mark, of course, is the first to notice the snow falling out the window. He's not responsible and it's beautiful.
Mark just gets up and leaves from the rickety poker table they currently have the plans on. Len's arguing with Mick over something, Evan's busy with his mirrors, and Axel barely pays attention during planning anyway. Mark makes it to the roof without being called back.
It's a good flurry right now. Thick, white, soft snowflakes spiralling down and obscuring everything more than ten feet away. There hasn't been any rain for a few days so it's sticking nicely and will likely stay for a while.
Provided Mark doesn't mess with it.
Already there's the compulsion to interfere. Like seeing a field of unmarked snow, you just have put your footprint on it, sign your name, ruin the perfection. The weather wand buzzes in anticipation in Mark's hand. Sometimes it scares him that it's always ready when he is, but then he's the Weather Wizard, never Mark Mardon. Not any more.
He starts off small, adjusting a few gusts of wind, thickening the fog. He wonders if the Flashes think it's already him. Mark laughs as he sweeps the weather wand up, pulling the wind and snow with it.
"Laughin' on yer own's a wee bit mental, ken?"
Mark turns his head to see Evan watching him from a tarnished chimney pipe. Mark thinks he should be surprised that the Mirror Master's found enough reflection in the gloom and dull metal to work with, but Evan's always been good at finding his way through impossible places.
Mark tilts his head back and lets the hand holding the wand drop. The wand's buzzing and Mark can feel the charge running through his whole body.
"Coming out?" Mark asks, raising an eyebrow - not that it can be seen beneath the mask.
"Think I've got a fair view from here, ta," Evan says.
Mark grins and lounges back on the roof. He can feel the snow cold through his outfit, but the weather wizard costume is waterproof enough to keep the wet out. He closes his eyes and listens to the howl of the wind and thrum of the wand.
Mark runs a hand down his body, feeling lightning dance on his fingertips and arcs over the green and yellow fabric. He shivers, and not from the cold.
A warm hand on his thigh jolts Mark's eye open again. Evan's leaning over him, specks of white melting into damp all over his outfit. It doesn't look like he minds the cold, at least not until Mark twists them up and over, straddling Evan's hips as the Mirror Master is pushed onto the roof tiles.
Evan yelps. "This getup's no made fer rollin' in snow, ye ken?"
Mark laughs and shuts Evan up with a kiss. It's a sharp meeting of teeth more than lips and the clouds thicken above them with the savage meeting. There's a rumble of thunder as Mark presses down on Evan. A crash of lightning as cowl and mask get torn off.
The wand and the weather it calls to want to destroy, to smash upon the earth beneath. Mark follows its call, digging his fingers into Evan's biceps. There's a hard edge of grit against his palms. A mirror-duplicate then. Mark doesn't care, he only presses harder.
It's over in a burst of wind, one that pulls the disintegrating duplicate away out of Mark's grasp. He rolls onto his back and smirks over at the chimney.
"A fair enough view, aye," says Evan, returning the smirk.
The snow falls.
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The winds are howling, driving the few snowflakes that dare fall practically horizontal. Times like this Mark hates living in a warehouse, what with all the unsealed windows and cracks in the walls. At least the snow is helping block up the worst holes and keeping some of the wind out.
Axel's sat cross-legged in midair as usual, poking one of his airwalkers with a screwdriver. Mark can't tell if it's helping or not, but then all he's ever done with electronics is create a working weather wand from his brother's blueprints. Even after all this time, Mark can't say how the wand works.
"'Sup," Axel says, looking up from his work and noticing Mark nearby.
Mark gives him a nod in return. The wind's howling is muffled over here, but the sound is still causing Axel to shiver involuntarily whenever it picks up.
Mark's lost in ideas for the snowfall when Axel next speaks.
"So, do you guys do anything special for Christmas?" Axel asks, staring intently at his screwdriver and shoe.
"Christmas?" Mark repeats, shaking himself out of his thoughts.
"Yeah, you know, Christmas," Axel says, hunching his shoulders in, "Twenty-fifth of December. Presents and carols and shit."
"You're asking if we... give each other presents?" Mark says slowly, a smile playing around his mouth.
"Shut up," Axel says petulantly, "I'm not expecting anything sissy like that. I just haven't been around you guys for Christmas before, I just wanted to know if there's any special heists or plans going down, 'sall."
"We don't do Christmas," Mark says, "Capes tend to be extra pissy if you take them away from their 'special time' with their loved ones."
"So it's just a regular day?" Axel asks.
"Cold might break out the good booze and if there's a villain you'd like to invite over, Christmas is the one day you'll get close to a free pass," Mark replies, "Otherwise normal."
"Cool," Axel says.
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The weather warms up enough for the falling snow to turn into sleet. The freezing slush keeps far more people indoors than the snow ever did.
Unless your name's Captain Cold, then you spend every minute you can out in the icy weather.
Mark's watching the sleet from the upstairs office windows when Len walks in, shedding water, slush, a soaked jacket, and boots that must be at least half ice by now. Mark raises a hand in greeting, but doesn't look away from the windows and the weather beyond.
"Your doing?" Len asks. He's closer than Mark realised, watching the sleet outside too.
"No," Mark replies.
"Hmm," Len places a hand on Mark's hip, cold enough that Mark can feel it through his trousers.
"Good mood?" Mark asks, letting his forehead touch the icy glass of the window.
"Very," Len growls, pressing up against Mark's back.
Mark groans as Len's other hand twists in his hair and pulls his head back to bite at his neck. It's rough, but then Len's never gentle.
Mark doesn't look away from the sleet as they get into it. He doesn't know where Len gets the necessary supplies from, but he gives a grunt when Len pushes into him.
It's harsh and amazing, like being out in the winter weather. Len finishes with a shudder and moan, then, without pulling out, reaches around to help Mark finish off. Mark comes with a drawn out groan, his head pressed against his free forearm against the damp window.
"Here's hope for more of this weather," Len says, still against Mark's back, one large hand pressed flat against the window.
Mark snorts. "Hope?" he says derisively. It's a stupid word for a stupid concept.
Len chuckles. He doesn't say anything else on that topic, instead getting dressed and striking up a conversation on films. There'll be time enough for heists after the storm.
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The weather takes a turn for the worse, to the point that Christmas day is during the coldest snap Central City has seen in decades. Mick only moves away from his oil barrel fire in the main room to use the bathroom or get food.
Mark and Evan don't comment on the perpetually burning fire. Axel toasts marshmallows over it and Len only gives vague warnings as to what would happen if Mick decided to spread the flames.
Like Mark said earlier, Christmas day is nothing special. In the evening, Mick makes a large batch of hot chocolate that's mostly whiskey - Len gets a handful of snow from outside to cool his down, earning much bitching from Mick - while Evan uses the reflection on the TV screen to find entertainment for them, mostly consisting of family rows over Christmas dinner from the Twin Cities' residents.
After a few broken plates and a near-killing, Evan comes across a large family with a blond guy just walking in and apologising for being late. It's not the first time by the looks on the rest of the family's faces.
"Skip it," Len growls.
Evan does as told, they've all got some people they'd prefer not to see celebrating the season and there had been at least two reporters there that Len had crossed in the past.
There's a rather good food fight, a spectacular disowning, and a fire - that Mick particularly enjoys - in other households, so no one's bothered that they missed that guy being chewed out for being late. At some point Axel gets sent to find the brandy (it's the good stuff, Evan had stolen it from one of those houses that everything in it is worth more than an average person makes in a year) and the stories start flowing with the alcohol.
Somewhere between Len going over the tale of a Christmas party they'd invited Flash to - to try and do him in, of course - and Mick lighting several candles around the battered settees they're on, Mark finds himself nodding off. It isn't particularly late - though he can't be sure, he'd broken all the clocks in the place with a wonky bit of lightning once and the time display on the dvd player had never been set - but Mark is boozed up and warm.
He's jolted awake a bit by Axel slouching sideways and winding up with his head on Mark's shoulder. Mark makes a half-hearted attempt to push the kid off, but ultimately gives up.
"Best Christmas ever," Axel declares sleepily, just as Mark falls asleep again.
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January brings a warm spell and the ability to see the pavements again. Mark feels somewhat despondent as the weather and its effects clear up.
Things are back to normal then.