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Title: Snow Miser
Fandom: DC's Legends of Tomorrow
Pairing: Mick/Len
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with DC or The Year Without a Santa Claus. It's not my toy box and I'm merely playing.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Mick and Len get a cat.
A/N: For Coldwave week 2016 prompt In Captivity. Mick talks about getting so caught up in watching fires that he doesn't take care of himself, Len isn't pleased. Also they get a cat.
Snow Miser:
It’s the yowling that draws Mick over. He’s not quite sure how to take that he and Len are just out for a walk. Maybe not just a walk since Len brought sandwiches and keeps shoving food at him. Not that he minds, Len only cooks for the people he cares for. Even the sandwiches taste better than anything Mick’s eaten in months.
“It’s a wild animal,” Len dismisses.
“I can look.”
“You might get bit.”
Mick smirks, then reassures, “No, I have you for that.”
Len’s lips quirk upwards, then he frowns, probably having already spotted what’s causing the racket.
“Well?” Mick asks.
“It’s a cat in a trap.”
Mick looks in the direction Len indicates with his chin and there in a metal trap is a cat. It’s filthy, with tuffs of white fur sticking out from caked on mud. He hands Len his sandwich and moves over to study the trap.
“It’ll probably scratch you.”
Mick shrugs. “Then I’ll get scratched.”
“I’m not patching you up.”
“Just trying to fatten me up?”
Len glances down at the sandwich he’s holding for Mick. “You lost too much weight. What the hell happened in prison that you lost that much weight?”
“I didn’t,” Mick protests as he studies the trap again.
“Yes, you did.”
Mick frowns as he releases a lever and the trap pops open. The cat comes barreling out and runs several circles around him before sitting in front of him and meows.
“You pick that thing up and we’ll end up with a cat.”
Mick glances over at Len. He’s trying to look upset at the prospect, but it doesn’t reach his eyes or his shoulders. Mick pulls a piece of ham from his sandwich and holds it out for the cat.
“You feed that thing and we’ll never be rid of it.”
“It’s practically starved. It needs something.”
“You’re practically starved,” Len growls.
Mick smiles as the cat takes the ham from him, before he turns to take Len in. Mick sighs and scrubs and hand over his head. “Look. I got distracted.”
“You sneak a lighter?”
“Stole one,” Mick admits. “Got confiscated. Then these pictures of fires started showing up in my cell, someone taping them to my wall.
Len’s gone still and that makes Mick not want to say anything more. Len scowls. “Did you take them down?”
“I tried, but then more would show up.” Mick looks away, not sure he wants to continue. The cat bumps his hand and lets him scratch at it’s head. Mick gives it another piece of ham.
Len watches him, still and contemplative. Mick picks up the cat, it weighs barely anything. The cat lets him settle it on his shoulder. Len’s focus doesn’t shift to the cat.
“That’s not everything.” Len pushes.
“A phone showed up. I couldn’t call out on it. I tried. I couldn’t do much with it, but it had these videos on it.”
“They confiscated the lighter.” Len’s voice is low, soft. It only gets that barely there when he’s angry.
Mick’s gaze snaps over and he admits. “No one tried to confiscate it and I…you know how I get.”
Len’s eye’s narrow and he starts to open his mouth, then settles on glaring.
“Hey,” Mick tries to sooth, leaning into him. “I’m out now and you’re fattening me up so it fine.”
Len accepts him leaning in close, wrappings an arm around his waist, and even pressing a kiss to his cheek. Len rests his forehead on Mick’s shoulder and takes several deep breaths before he asks, “What are you naming your cat?”
“Not sure it’s mine.”
“It’s filthy, wild and yet letting you hold it.” Len points out.
“It’ll clean up.”
“It’ll make a mess.” Len contradicts.
“Who played Snow Miser?” Mick changes the subject.
Len pulls back and hands Mick his sandwich before looking it up on his phone. “George Irving played Heat Miser.”
Mick shakes his head. “Cat’s white and I’m not naming it Snowflake.”
“Dick Shawn. You’re not naming our cat Dick.”
“Shawn works.”
“It’s probably a girl cat.”
“I don’t think the cat cares,” Mick points out.
Len shakes his head. “We have a cat. Lisa is never going to let me hear the end of it. I never did let her get that puppy she wanted.”
Mick laughs as a purring cat tries to make it up his arm to get at the sandwich.
Fandom: DC's Legends of Tomorrow
Pairing: Mick/Len
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with DC or The Year Without a Santa Claus. It's not my toy box and I'm merely playing.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Mick and Len get a cat.
A/N: For Coldwave week 2016 prompt In Captivity. Mick talks about getting so caught up in watching fires that he doesn't take care of himself, Len isn't pleased. Also they get a cat.
Snow Miser:
It’s the yowling that draws Mick over. He’s not quite sure how to take that he and Len are just out for a walk. Maybe not just a walk since Len brought sandwiches and keeps shoving food at him. Not that he minds, Len only cooks for the people he cares for. Even the sandwiches taste better than anything Mick’s eaten in months.
“It’s a wild animal,” Len dismisses.
“I can look.”
“You might get bit.”
Mick smirks, then reassures, “No, I have you for that.”
Len’s lips quirk upwards, then he frowns, probably having already spotted what’s causing the racket.
“Well?” Mick asks.
“It’s a cat in a trap.”
Mick looks in the direction Len indicates with his chin and there in a metal trap is a cat. It’s filthy, with tuffs of white fur sticking out from caked on mud. He hands Len his sandwich and moves over to study the trap.
“It’ll probably scratch you.”
Mick shrugs. “Then I’ll get scratched.”
“I’m not patching you up.”
“Just trying to fatten me up?”
Len glances down at the sandwich he’s holding for Mick. “You lost too much weight. What the hell happened in prison that you lost that much weight?”
“I didn’t,” Mick protests as he studies the trap again.
“Yes, you did.”
Mick frowns as he releases a lever and the trap pops open. The cat comes barreling out and runs several circles around him before sitting in front of him and meows.
“You pick that thing up and we’ll end up with a cat.”
Mick glances over at Len. He’s trying to look upset at the prospect, but it doesn’t reach his eyes or his shoulders. Mick pulls a piece of ham from his sandwich and holds it out for the cat.
“You feed that thing and we’ll never be rid of it.”
“It’s practically starved. It needs something.”
“You’re practically starved,” Len growls.
Mick smiles as the cat takes the ham from him, before he turns to take Len in. Mick sighs and scrubs and hand over his head. “Look. I got distracted.”
“You sneak a lighter?”
“Stole one,” Mick admits. “Got confiscated. Then these pictures of fires started showing up in my cell, someone taping them to my wall.
Len’s gone still and that makes Mick not want to say anything more. Len scowls. “Did you take them down?”
“I tried, but then more would show up.” Mick looks away, not sure he wants to continue. The cat bumps his hand and lets him scratch at it’s head. Mick gives it another piece of ham.
Len watches him, still and contemplative. Mick picks up the cat, it weighs barely anything. The cat lets him settle it on his shoulder. Len’s focus doesn’t shift to the cat.
“That’s not everything.” Len pushes.
“A phone showed up. I couldn’t call out on it. I tried. I couldn’t do much with it, but it had these videos on it.”
“They confiscated the lighter.” Len’s voice is low, soft. It only gets that barely there when he’s angry.
Mick’s gaze snaps over and he admits. “No one tried to confiscate it and I…you know how I get.”
Len’s eye’s narrow and he starts to open his mouth, then settles on glaring.
“Hey,” Mick tries to sooth, leaning into him. “I’m out now and you’re fattening me up so it fine.”
Len accepts him leaning in close, wrappings an arm around his waist, and even pressing a kiss to his cheek. Len rests his forehead on Mick’s shoulder and takes several deep breaths before he asks, “What are you naming your cat?”
“Not sure it’s mine.”
“It’s filthy, wild and yet letting you hold it.” Len points out.
“It’ll clean up.”
“It’ll make a mess.” Len contradicts.
“Who played Snow Miser?” Mick changes the subject.
Len pulls back and hands Mick his sandwich before looking it up on his phone. “George Irving played Heat Miser.”
Mick shakes his head. “Cat’s white and I’m not naming it Snowflake.”
“Dick Shawn. You’re not naming our cat Dick.”
“Shawn works.”
“It’s probably a girl cat.”
“I don’t think the cat cares,” Mick points out.
Len shakes his head. “We have a cat. Lisa is never going to let me hear the end of it. I never did let her get that puppy she wanted.”
Mick laughs as a purring cat tries to make it up his arm to get at the sandwich.
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