![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Adrift
Fandom: Legends of Tomorrow
Pairing: Len & Lisa, Len/Eddie, Len/Oliver, Len/Laurel, Len/Iris, Len/Ray, Len/Killer Frost, Len/Sara, Len/Mick, Len/Barry
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with DC or Torchwood. Neither is my toy box and I'm merely playing.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Len should be dead, not seeing all his possibilities in the multiverse.
A/N: Written for the![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomweekly challenge on dreamwidth for prompt #41 Down For the Count with bonus prompt Ten Count. In one of the scenes Mick has cyrophobia (from the comic books) and starts to have a panic attack.
Adrift:
Len dies or he should die. Instead he scatters, all the pieces of himself suddenly sent out across the multiverse and he sees his lives, all the possibilities of his life. He needs to find himself. Ten seconds, ten more seconds to be lost and then he has to open his own eyes.
Ten.
He pounds on the door to the bedroom. “I’m not entertaining a high school boy.”
Lisa peaks out, make-up perfect, hair up-swept, but with curls artfully framing her face. She gives him wide eyes and a pout, “But I’m not ready yet.”
“Prom, really?”
“World famous Olympian, you think I’m not going to get some teen magazine interview out of this?” she counters.
“Ten seconds,” he concedes. “I’ll give you ten seconds.”
Nine.
“Really Snart?”
“Do you expect anything less Detective Thawne?”
Eddie sighs. “We have a date tomorrow.”
“Then don’t arrest me.”
“I don’t know,” Eddie teases, “you broke into my house.”
“You did make it a bit more challenging this time.”
“What was the most interesting part?”
Len smirks, “It took me nine seconds longer than last time.”
Eight
Len tugs at the harness, making sure everything is secure. He’s done this himself multiple time since he was taught, but it always worrying when he’s putting someone new in it for the first time. He glances down into the room they’re breaking into. He calculates the distance again, fingers itching over his cold gun as he does. Mick is a reassuring presence in one corner of the roof, his sister has the opposite. He glances over where Black Canary is pacing at her corner, and starts to look over to where Arsenal has their exit point guarded when he catches sight of Oliver scowling at him.
“Stop fidgeting,” Len chides, checking him over, just once more. Oliver moves willingly with his touch, somehow after the short time they’ve worked together trusting that Len is going to make sure he lives through this. Len leans in. “Tell Merlyn not to mess with my city again.”
“Are you more upset that he’s trying to destroy your city or that he kidnapped the Flash?”
Len tilts his head, considering all the variables of the question before he smirks. “He hurt my nemesis on camera, without my permission, but no, I’m more upset it led to this.”
The kiss is quick and biting, a giving into the mutual flirting and a reminder not to screw up either end of their bargain. Len pulls back. “Eight seconds before The Flash breaks free and joins us.”
He shoves Oliver through the open skylight.
Seven.
Len stills as Laurel reaches over slowly to fix his tie. He leans into her touch. “If this fails…”
“No one is going to make these changes if they are villain demands,” she reminds. “After tonight both The Flash and Green Arrow will back your plan and…”
“I’ll be legitimate,” Len grumbles. She smiles. Len shakes his head trying not to smirk in response. She touches his cheek. He kisses her hand before squaring his shoulders. “Seven more seconds of being a villain.”
She laughs and kisses him.
Six.
Len checks Iris’ bound hands as he observes. “I’m beginning to think you enjoy this.”
“What gave you that idea?” Iris laughs.
“Adrenaline junkie,” Len teases instead of answering. She smirks. He leans in to brush a kiss across her cheek. “Mick will guard you. Give me six seconds and those idiots will give you the story of a life time.”
Five.
Ray slides a hand around his waist. Len leans in, accepting a kiss with a smirk. “Congratulations Mayor.”
“I like the way that sounds,” Len admits. “Five more seconds until it’s legitimate.”
Four.
Killer Frost shifts, ice playing between her fingers, “He’s not here.”
“The plan requires our crew has time to get away, give the speedster four seconds,” Len soothes.
Three.
Sara is a reassuring presence at his back. He raises his cold gun.
“The things I get into for you,” she laughs.
Len takes in the stances of the ninjas surround them, calculating, before he tells her, “Three seconds.”
Mick will be sorry he missed this.
Two.
The icy blast sends Mick crashing against him. He wraps an arm around his shaking partner and peeks over his shoulder. Mick’s hand spasm against his back as he sucks in several shuddering breaths, trying to get control of himself.
Len registers Oliver fretting in his ear, guy gets a little overprotective when someone messes with Mick’s cryophobia. Len ignores Oliver as he tracks movement out of the fog. He presses a reassuring kiss to Mick’s temple. “Two seconds to freak out. I’ll pamper you after, but this fool needs to die first.”
Len’s shoulders relax minutely as Mick’s hands go from gripping him tightly to fists, even as he goes limp and pretends he isn’t about to spring into an attack with Len.
One.
Barry rushes into the room, dropping the food he’s brought over onto the coffee table and then slowly sitting down next to Len. Len raises his eyebrows. Barry pushes back his cowl and starts to open his mouth. Len raises one finger. Barry’s mouth snaps closed.
“Is my city safe?”
Barry nods.
“Should you have talked me into helping?”
Barry shakes his head.
“Then I guess I can forgive you for being one second late.”
Barry laughs and leans into the kiss Len pulls him into.
Zero.
It takes Len a moment to remember how to open his own eyes. He stares up at the man offering him reassurances. He’s Merlyn…but he’s not, but…
The coat is amazing, but Len doesn’t think Merlyn would ever dress like that or smile in such a flirty manner. Len’s disoriented. Is he himself? Is this his body? Is he home? Where’s Mick? The team?
“Merlyn,” Len growls looking for answers. “I thought I told you never to set foot in my city again.”
“Captain Jack Harness,” the man corrects, “You’re in Cardiff.”
Fandom: Legends of Tomorrow
Pairing: Len & Lisa, Len/Eddie, Len/Oliver, Len/Laurel, Len/Iris, Len/Ray, Len/Killer Frost, Len/Sara, Len/Mick, Len/Barry
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with DC or Torchwood. Neither is my toy box and I'm merely playing.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Len should be dead, not seeing all his possibilities in the multiverse.
A/N: Written for the
fandomweekly challenge on dreamwidth for prompt #41 Down For the Count with bonus prompt Ten Count. In one of the scenes Mick has cyrophobia (from the comic books) and starts to have a panic attack.Adrift:
Len dies or he should die. Instead he scatters, all the pieces of himself suddenly sent out across the multiverse and he sees his lives, all the possibilities of his life. He needs to find himself. Ten seconds, ten more seconds to be lost and then he has to open his own eyes.
Ten.
He pounds on the door to the bedroom. “I’m not entertaining a high school boy.”
Lisa peaks out, make-up perfect, hair up-swept, but with curls artfully framing her face. She gives him wide eyes and a pout, “But I’m not ready yet.”
“Prom, really?”
“World famous Olympian, you think I’m not going to get some teen magazine interview out of this?” she counters.
“Ten seconds,” he concedes. “I’ll give you ten seconds.”
Nine.
“Really Snart?”
“Do you expect anything less Detective Thawne?”
Eddie sighs. “We have a date tomorrow.”
“Then don’t arrest me.”
“I don’t know,” Eddie teases, “you broke into my house.”
“You did make it a bit more challenging this time.”
“What was the most interesting part?”
Len smirks, “It took me nine seconds longer than last time.”
Eight
Len tugs at the harness, making sure everything is secure. He’s done this himself multiple time since he was taught, but it always worrying when he’s putting someone new in it for the first time. He glances down into the room they’re breaking into. He calculates the distance again, fingers itching over his cold gun as he does. Mick is a reassuring presence in one corner of the roof, his sister has the opposite. He glances over where Black Canary is pacing at her corner, and starts to look over to where Arsenal has their exit point guarded when he catches sight of Oliver scowling at him.
“Stop fidgeting,” Len chides, checking him over, just once more. Oliver moves willingly with his touch, somehow after the short time they’ve worked together trusting that Len is going to make sure he lives through this. Len leans in. “Tell Merlyn not to mess with my city again.”
“Are you more upset that he’s trying to destroy your city or that he kidnapped the Flash?”
Len tilts his head, considering all the variables of the question before he smirks. “He hurt my nemesis on camera, without my permission, but no, I’m more upset it led to this.”
The kiss is quick and biting, a giving into the mutual flirting and a reminder not to screw up either end of their bargain. Len pulls back. “Eight seconds before The Flash breaks free and joins us.”
He shoves Oliver through the open skylight.
Seven.
Len stills as Laurel reaches over slowly to fix his tie. He leans into her touch. “If this fails…”
“No one is going to make these changes if they are villain demands,” she reminds. “After tonight both The Flash and Green Arrow will back your plan and…”
“I’ll be legitimate,” Len grumbles. She smiles. Len shakes his head trying not to smirk in response. She touches his cheek. He kisses her hand before squaring his shoulders. “Seven more seconds of being a villain.”
She laughs and kisses him.
Six.
Len checks Iris’ bound hands as he observes. “I’m beginning to think you enjoy this.”
“What gave you that idea?” Iris laughs.
“Adrenaline junkie,” Len teases instead of answering. She smirks. He leans in to brush a kiss across her cheek. “Mick will guard you. Give me six seconds and those idiots will give you the story of a life time.”
Five.
Ray slides a hand around his waist. Len leans in, accepting a kiss with a smirk. “Congratulations Mayor.”
“I like the way that sounds,” Len admits. “Five more seconds until it’s legitimate.”
Four.
Killer Frost shifts, ice playing between her fingers, “He’s not here.”
“The plan requires our crew has time to get away, give the speedster four seconds,” Len soothes.
Three.
Sara is a reassuring presence at his back. He raises his cold gun.
“The things I get into for you,” she laughs.
Len takes in the stances of the ninjas surround them, calculating, before he tells her, “Three seconds.”
Mick will be sorry he missed this.
Two.
The icy blast sends Mick crashing against him. He wraps an arm around his shaking partner and peeks over his shoulder. Mick’s hand spasm against his back as he sucks in several shuddering breaths, trying to get control of himself.
Len registers Oliver fretting in his ear, guy gets a little overprotective when someone messes with Mick’s cryophobia. Len ignores Oliver as he tracks movement out of the fog. He presses a reassuring kiss to Mick’s temple. “Two seconds to freak out. I’ll pamper you after, but this fool needs to die first.”
Len’s shoulders relax minutely as Mick’s hands go from gripping him tightly to fists, even as he goes limp and pretends he isn’t about to spring into an attack with Len.
One.
Barry rushes into the room, dropping the food he’s brought over onto the coffee table and then slowly sitting down next to Len. Len raises his eyebrows. Barry pushes back his cowl and starts to open his mouth. Len raises one finger. Barry’s mouth snaps closed.
“Is my city safe?”
Barry nods.
“Should you have talked me into helping?”
Barry shakes his head.
“Then I guess I can forgive you for being one second late.”
Barry laughs and leans into the kiss Len pulls him into.
Zero.
It takes Len a moment to remember how to open his own eyes. He stares up at the man offering him reassurances. He’s Merlyn…but he’s not, but…
The coat is amazing, but Len doesn’t think Merlyn would ever dress like that or smile in such a flirty manner. Len’s disoriented. Is he himself? Is this his body? Is he home? Where’s Mick? The team?
“Merlyn,” Len growls looking for answers. “I thought I told you never to set foot in my city again.”
“Captain Jack Harness,” the man corrects, “You’re in Cardiff.”