#me: *awkwardly hovers around in the general vicinity of them for the rest of the day because I really do feel for them and is worried about | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cloudywriter · 4 years

Note

Okay, hear me out... A Nessian carnival situation?

first, i need more prompts, send whatever & alright this one took me a sec but then i got into and i’m pretty happy with it. sorry, it’s such a long built up but it’ll come. pretty swift nessian fix here ya go:

~~~

A Tale of Questionable Carnival Rides

~~~

Nesta huffed, checked the time on her phone again, and rolled her eyes. It was only 9:32pm now and the endless stream of kids and parents was still steadily flowing and likely would be for another hour or so.

Nesta checked again. 9:33pm.

It wasn’t that she hated the annual carnival fundraiser for the school, she liked planning it and making sure everything ran smoothly, being student council president that’s usually what her job description was. But not this year, no, this year Nesta was in charge of running one of the mini-game stands as Clare, who was supposed to be managing it, came down with the flu.

To say the least, Nesta did not enjoy dealing with groups of screaming children and their hovering parents. Honestly, she’d rather slam her hand into a car door than spend another hour watching kids fail to knock down three pins then become upset because they don’t get a prize for losing.

She was able to handle the first couple of kids that shed some tears and the few parents that wanted a pity prize, but as the night wore on her patience began to run thin.

A young blonde boy, maybe eight or nine years old, was now making his way up to Nesta’s booth followed by presumably his mother.

Nesta gave her the same, plastered-on smile she’d been giving all night to the woman approaching.

“Hi, three balls please,” the mother said sweetly, handing a five-dollar bill to Nesta over the table.

Nesta gave her a small nod and plucked three red balls from the bucket beside her, handing one to the little boy.

“Alright, all you have to do is knock down all three pins and you’ll get a prize,” she stated her usual rehearsed line.

Of course, the little boy missed his first shot, his aim a little too low, Nesta passed him a second ball in response. Once again, his ball missed its mark and the boy let out a little sound of frustration.

“It’s okay, you’ve got one more shot,” Nesta explained before setting the final ball before him.

The boy swiped up the plastic, red orb and weighed it in his hand. He turned his attention back to the three pins still sitting untouched atop the table adorned with a red and orange plaid, fall-appropriate cloth; he chucked the ball, grazing the top pin enough to knock it off.

“I did it! I did it!” The boy cried punching the air in triumph.

“Hey, I’m sorry, but you actually have to knock down all three to win,” Nesta frowned, feeling a little sympathetic for the kid.

“That’s crap!” He shouted. Nesta shifted her weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, “I’m sorry, that’s just the rules.”

The mother’s mouth was set in a thin line as she rested her hand on his arm. “C’mon honey, maybe you’ll have better luck at ring toss?” She offered. However, he looked up at her unimpressed, “No! This booth is the only one with the dragon stuffed animal! I got the top pin!”

The mother’s eyes flitted back up to Nesta. “Can you just give him the dragon? I mean he did hit one and I already gave you money, I’m sure that dragon is cheaper than five dollars.”

“I’m sorry, but I really don’t think I can do that,” Nesta reiterated.

The mother huffed, obviously getting upset now and started digging around in her purse. She slapped down another five-dollar bill in front of Nesta, “There? Is that enough? Just give him the damn toy.”

Nesta was a little torn on how to handle the situation, the last bit of patience she possessed slowly disintegrating. “Look, I can give you another three balls for you to try again but I can’t just give out the prizes for some money.”

The mother rolled her eyes, slamming her hand down by her side; “He’s just a kid, he’s not going to hit all of the pins and don’t try to tell me that dragon is worth more than a few bucks. This is just a high school fundraiser, save me the trouble and give my kid the damn prize.”

The son looked up at his mother with a pout.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry to hear that your son has no hand-eye coordination but frankly it’s not my problem. If you want to try and pay your way through another game I’d suggest the bean bag toss, my sister Elain is a softy.” Nesta gave her a sickly sweet smile and crossed her arms over her chest.

At that, the woman’s face turned a tint of red. “Okay, who is running this? I’d like to speak to one of your teachers or the principal, you’re being extremely rude.”

“I’m being rude? Lady, I’m just trying to get in my community service hours.”

The woman’s nostrils flared and Nesta could tell she was about to crack, she started to speak her voice significantly raised. “Alright, missy-”

“Whoa, hey, what is going on here?” Another voice chimed in.

Nesta groaned, her head turning to face the student council vice president who had now joined the interaction.

“Are you running this thing? This girl has been astonishingly ill-mannered,” the woman began. Cassian held up his hand, “I am not the one in charge, unfortunately, you’re actually looking at the boss right now.”

The woman gave Nesta another scowl, snatched up the five-dollar bill that still rested on the table, and grabbed her son’s hand dragging him off into the crowd. Cassian didn’t turn to leave though, “I’m actually surprised you didn’t get into a fight with a crazy mom earlier. I almost left your general vicinity thinking I wouldn’t have to break up anything, good thing I didn’t.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and uncrossed her arms, letting them rest at her side again. “My hero,” she added sarcastically.

Cassian smiled. “C’mon, sweetheart, why don’t we go for a little cooldown ferris wheel ride.”

“Really?” Nesta asked, gesturing with her head towards the sad scrap of chipped brightly painted metal that was the ‘ferris wheel’ the school decided to splurge on and rent out. “You’d get in a cart and the whole thing would topple over.”

Cassian only shook his head. “Nah, c’mon, Archeron. What, are you scared of heights?”

“Yes, I’m deathly afraid of being lifted twenty feet into the air, Cassian.”

Cassian didn’t respond, just held out his arm. Nesta sighed, deciding she’d rather risk her life on a very janky carnival ride than work that damn game. She slipped out from behind the tables and looped her arm through Cassian’s, “I hope you know you’re paying whatever ridiculous rate they have going.”

“I suspected as much,” he answered, pulling her across the high school parking lot which had been transformed into the makeshift carnival.

They stood together in the small line and Nesta closed her eyes, tipping her head back breathing in the scent of corn dogs and funnel cakes deeply. The student letting kids on and off the ride collected Cassian’s money and they stepped into their cart. It did audibly creak as Cassian and all his muscles took up residence, Nesta settled in across from him.

“How have you enjoyed working a booth? Think next year you’ll decide to do it again rather than running around making sure everything’s working out?” Cassian asked, stretching his arms behind him.

“I think if I get stuck handing kids balls to throw at pins or something like that again I will abdicate my throne.”

Cassian raised his brow. “It can’t be that bad.”

Nesta shrugged. “Why do you care? You’re probably thinking up a scheme to make sure I end up on game duty again so you can have my presidential status.”

“Nah, I’m not after your position I swear. I don’t even like being vice president.”

Now it was Nesta’s turn to raise a brow. “Then why do you keep doing it?”

Cassian hesitated a moment. “It’s the only way I get to spend time with you,” he confessed.

“You’re telling me for two years you’ve run for vice president so you could hang out with me?” Nesta asked, disbelief coating her tone.

Cassian nodded.

“You took on the extra burden of full hour meetings twice a week before school, put in countless hours of budgeting, fundraising, making posters, all that jazz just to spend time with me?”

Cassian nodded again looking as if he were trying much too hard to stay cool and calm. “Romantic, isn’t it?” He smirked like he was ready for Nesta to melt into his arms.

“No, that’s so fucking stupid,” Nesta crossed her arms.

Only then did Cassian’s built up nonchalant aura falter. “W-what?”

“Yeah dumbass, you literally could have just asked me out.”

“I didn’t think you’d ever say yes,” now Cassian was leaning forward, his face exuding a plethora of emotions.

Nesta leaned forward, her face only a few inches from Cassian’s own.

“I would’ve said yes,” she almost whispered. Cassian’s eyes searched Nesta’s face for any sign that she was playing a cruel joke, he found none. “Nesta?” he asked softly.

“Mhm?”

“Would you really go out with me?” His eyes were wide and hopeful, the innocence of it all made Nesta smile. Especially knowing how much of a goofball Cassian was, it was different seeing him so genuine and unguarded.

“I really would,” she answered at last. She and Cassian just stared at each other for a moment, the corners of their lips upturned.

“Nes?” Cassian’s voice broke. Nesta raised her eyebrows slightly, encouraging him to continue. “Is it okay if I give you my letter of resignation on the date, too?”

Nesta let out a small giggle and rested her forehead against his. “You’re such a doof.”

~~~

alright, well i hope you liked it! also thank you guys so much for all the love on my last nessian prompt fic, usually, i only get like 15-20 notes a post so all the attention that one got made me really happy. also, i promise i'm still working on my other stories!

#nessian au #nessian fanfiction #nessian #nesta x cassian #nessian fanfic #nesta archeron #a court of thorns and roses #acotar au #acotar fanfiction #acotar #modern au #carnival au #answered prompts #prompt fic #cassian #sjmaas #sjm fanfic

40 notes · View notes

stillthewordgirl · 6 years

Text

LOT/CC fic: Subterfuge (Ch. 5 of 6)

Subtitle: "Five Times Sara and Len Nearly Got Busted--and One Time They Did." Immediate follow-up to "Date Night." Sara and Len are trying to figure out their new relationship without cluing their teammates in quite yet. That, however, is easier said than done.

Please note the bump in rating to Mature. Can be read here at AO3. (Up later on FF.net, which is being annoying.

Many thanks to @larielromeniel for the beta. And @sylvanheather, who gave me an idea for this. :)

Len really does think about it.

He thinks about staying on Earth-1 a lot, really. He’d been trying not to, but since Sara brought it up, it seems like the decision is always there, nagging at him, a puzzle he can’t solve. He’s between the irresistible force and the immoveable object, in a way, and he just doesn’t know what to do.

Mick and Sara are the two he’s closest to, here, but he doesn’t want to talk to them about the decision for any number of reasons. He considers talking to Gideon about it, but he’s not sure the dispassionate view of an AI is what he truly wants (through he also suspects Gideon’s not quite as dispassionate as she seems). None of the others seem quite right--or rather, they’re all just so…good… that he feels like he already knows what they’d say.

He doesn’t want to hear it.

So he doesn’t ask. He continues on in much the same way, with one unfortunate exception: he’s avoiding Sara.

Len doesn’t even mean to do it. But he remembers that steady gaze on him that morning in her room, and he just…can’t. In a way, he supposes with a bit of gallows humor, that’ll solve his conundrum, won’t it? There are a number of reasons he’d like to stay here in Earth-1, but Sara’s the main one. He’s well and truly fallen for her, this amazing, badass timeship captain, and even if he hadn’t, he has a feeling he’d like to be her friend on any Earth there is.

The woman in question gives him his space after that morning. Still, as the days pass, he starts to see her watching him out of the corner of her eye or even more directly. Maybe he’s imagining the regret in her expression, but it hurts, and he starts to let himself drift back into her vicinity, unsure, cautious of private conversations.

The team realizes that something’s up. Mick actually corners Len in the galley and tries, gruffly and awkwardly, to play relationship counselor—for whatever relationship there might be. This Mick might be very different then his own Earth’s Mick, having been a Legend for several years now, but Len still can’t help being amused and vaguely appalled.

And, yeah, maybe their subterfuge might not have been as successful as they thought it’d been. Because the other members of the team are…hovering. Annoyingly, at times. Jax is just giving them regretful looks. Len’s caught Amaya looking at him a time or two like she’d enjoy letting her tiger manifestation disembowel him. Stein has taken to pontificating about his marriage and how he’d known Clarissa was the one. Ray keeps giving them both puppy eyes. And Nate…well, Len actually sorta likes the historian, but the man’s reaction to…well, whatever the team thinks is going on…is even more embarrassing, so embarrassing he doesn’t even want to think about it.

He’s really quite relieved when a stop in 1993 Central City means, according to Gideon, that the team will be passing far too close to the site when a 21-year-old Earth-1 Leonard Snart will be on a job. Len is quite a bit older and not really the same man, but he looks enough like him that they can’t risk the confusion. (Mick’s apparently in prison at the moment, which the man acknowledges with a shrug, and he actually looks less like his younger self than Len does—sort of does--so he’s less likely to trip alarms anyway.)

Having the ship to himself is sort of neat, but he’s not particularly fond of being alone with his thoughts right now. Len looks up and reads some more of this Earth’s history, just because it’s interesting and he can never tell when something little is going to trip him up. (Lennon died in 1980 here? Damnit.) He realizes after the fact that it’s just one more little sign that he’s somehow mentally planning or hoping to stay here.

The rest of the team has left on the mission, although Amaya and Sara had planned to head to a different site than the others, who were protecting a young police officer on his rounds through the city. The ladies were hunting down a possible second aberration that Gideon wasn’t quite sure of. Len’s not quite clear on it either.

Eventually, he finds himself in the galley, staring moodily into a glass of lemonade. He misses Sara. He misses…

“Hey.”

His head jerks up and he stares at the doorway, where Sara…still in her early ‘90s garb, denim skirt and pink top and kinda floofy hair, and OK, that’s sort of hot, but really what isn’t on her…

“Hey,” he manages. “That, ah, was quicker than I thought. Everything OK?”

Sara tips her head in acknowledgement as she moves into the room, watching him. “Ours was a false alarm. And the others are fine, just, well, a bit bored as they tail this guy.” She shakes her head, smiling a little as she runs a hand through her hair in an apparent attempt to tame it. “Mick’s befriended him.”

Len nearly spits out his sip of lemonade. “The cop?”

“Mmhmm.” Sara’s smile grows as she against the counter next to him. “Just a patrol officer, right now. Mick apparently took pity on him for some reason and gave him some pointers…from the other side of things, although he didn’t really let on to that.”

Len turns that over in his head, glad for the distraction. “Huh. I’ll be damned.” He can’t ever imagine his Earth’s Mick doing such a thing. “This is the guy who’s gonna go on to save all those people 20 years down the road in Ivy Town?”

“Yeah. As an undercover agent who covers a plot.” Her eyes sparkle as she delivers the kicker. “He’s now decided Mick might just be an undercover agent. So he’s very earnestly listening to every word.”

It’s too much. Len laughs out loud, and Sara does too, and, damn, it’s good to see her again, to talk to her…

Just as the laughter starts to die and Len’s forced to start to think about the situation a little more, Sara abruptly holds up a hand, meeting his eyes with a direct gaze.

“Just…listen,” she says before he can get out another word. “Please.” When he nods, she takes a deep breath and nods too.

“When I told you that you had to make a decision, I meant it,” she says quietly. “Because you do. But…I never wanted you to…to withdraw like that.” She gives him a look as he starts to speak, and he subsides as she continues. “I miss you, idiot. And…and whether or not you decide to stay…” Another deep breath and then, even more quietly, “and I hope you do, you know…let’s go back, OK? To before?”

“Before?” His brain is misfiring.

Sara gives him another look, but a smile’s lurking around the edges of it. “Before I said that, no matter how true it is.”

“I…” Len takes his own deep breath, aware of the rapid-fire beating of his heart, the uncharacteristic nerves and the odd feeling of regret. “…it’s not that I don’t want to…it’s just…” The thought of telling her what he’d done, the pain he’d caused, it makes him freeze. Pun definitely not intended. “It’s complicated,” he finishes rather lamely.

But Sara’s shaking her head. “It always is,” she says quietly, then holds up a hand again as he starts to speak. “Seriously. Whatever’s going on with you, with your Earth, whatever you’re so conflicted by…I’m here if you want to talk. But until you make a decision, can we…can you just…”

It’s her turn to let her voice drift off and glance away, then back, almost uncertain. Len, who hates that he’s apparently caused this uncharacteristic hesitation, moves toward her. “Just?”

“Just don’t go away until you have to.” Sara’s eyes are direct now, and for two people who tend to avoid talking about feelings, there are sure a lot of feelings in this room. “OK?”

Ah, hell, maybe it hurts more, but it’s worth it. “OK. Promise.” He steps closer yet. “For what it’s worth, I missed you too. A lot.”

The corner of Sara’s mouth lifts. “Good,” she murmurs, then turns away before things can intensify again. “Want a drink? I could use one.”

“Sure.” He remembers something. “Where’s Amaya? She was with you, right?”

“I sent her to check on the others.” Sara lifts an eyebrow at him as she pulls two glasses out of a cupboard, then opens another to study some old glass bottles that are, he’s told, what remains of the former Waverider captain’s stash of alcohol. “I wanted a chance to talk to you, just the two of us.”

“Ah?” Smooth, Len. He clears his throat, getting up from his perch at the counter. “Anything else you wanted to say?” And that wasn’t much smoother…

The smile is sparkling in Sara’s eyes again as she glances over her shoulder. “Well,” she says, glancing at the cabinet, selecting an unlabeled bottle apparently at random and turning back to him. “Not yet…”

Maybe it’s the booze.

Sara will admit she’d grabbed something without much thought. Gone are the days of Rob Roy’s scotch, at least, unless they want to go find him and get some themselves. (Now there’s a thought…) The few bottles left of Rip’s old cache are less notable, with fading, peeling labels or no labels at all, like they’d been filled at some shabby backwoods still decades ago.

It’s not like either of them have much of it, either. Sara, despite her, well, legendary tolerance, is still captain with people still out in the field. And Len, child of an abusive alcoholic and possessor of still-uncertain metahuman powers, is cautious about how much he drinks, although he’s generally amenable to nursing a glass of something for a while over cards.

But the mysterious, slightly sweet amber liquid goes straight to her head, making her feel nearly giddy—and quite warm—as they sit together with their drinks, chatting quietly about some topic neither of them will even remember later. From the way Len’s eyes are focused on hers, direct and incredibly intent, she’s pretty sure he’s feeling the same.

Maybe it’s the fact they’re alone together for the first time in a week.

Sara, not to put too fine a point on it, has become quite happily used to copious amounts of excellent, mind-blowing sex. And the desire she’s feeling has very little to do with the alcohol that they’re consuming, and everything to do with the thought of that, and the look in Len’s eyes as he watches her.

And maybe’s it’s partly the realization that…yes. He wants to stay. Maybe he hadn’t actually managed to say it clearly, but Sara’s perceptive. She’d listened, and she’d watched him, and while there’s obviously something holding him back, the pull here is just as strong…and that’s strong indeed.

She barely even lets herself think it…but he wants to stay with her.

Without any planning, without any particular agreement that they’re back together, that they’re still together, that they’re…whatever they are…that “conversation and a drink” turns into a stolen kiss, an almost unintentional brush of lips as Sara looks up at him, as Leonard tilts his head down to her. Then another, far more intentional, slow and deliberate. And another, heating up, deepening, tongues sliding together slowly, the taste of the honey liquor, hands reaching out to grasp and hold.

It’s not long before things are…well, if not totally out of control, then far closer than they would normally let them get, at least here. Len has Sara boosted up against the counter, evening some of the height difference, and she’s managed to get her skirt rucked up and legs locked around his waist as they…well, “kiss” seems far too mild, she thinks distantly, letting a gasp escape as Len moves his mouth to her jaw for a moment, her nails scratching faintly across his hair even as her other hand reaches around to grab his ass, pressing him closer.

Make out? It seems so…juvenile. Sara smirks as it’s Len’s turn to let out a low moan as she grinds up against him, bringing her hands around to frame his face, dragging his mouth back to hers as they move against each other, sadly still with too many layers of clothing between them. Well, there’s one way to make sure the terminology is a little more precise…

But Len freezes, just a moment, as Sara settles herself a little more firmly on the counter, moving her hands down to the zipper of his jeans. “Uh…here?” he mutters, pulling back a little, flushed and pupils shot in a way that’s very satisfying. “Really?”

“Would you rather stop and take the time to move to one of our rooms?” she asks, fingers moving along the rough fabric and the warm hardness underneath, hearing him swallow another moan. “That cop needs to be protected until at least the end of the day. We shouldn’t be interrupted.”

She laughs at the resigned look he gives her. “I know, I know.” Sara moves one hand to his jaw, watching him intently. “Len, we can move if you want. But…” She flexes the fingers of her other hand again, deliberately. “…there’s a certain…excitement in this…”

His eyes spark, but he doesn’t answer in words. Instead, he moves his hands down, over her hand, helping her work the button, then moves them up again, stroking lightly against the skin of her thighs, then under her short skirt, catching in the skimpy panties she’s wearing, moving them…

“Len…ahhh…” Sara’s free hand, on the way down to help her work the jeans down over his hips, catches in his shirt, jerking involuntarily, and there’s the sound of ripping fabric.

And there are no words, then, not for the moment, at least not coherent ones, just half-gasped names and murmured suggestions and noises of great approval as they carry on with their activities. They’re each focused on the other intently, to the exclusion of pretty much everything else, and the sensations building to an unescapable conclusion.

Analytically, Sara knows that Len has had to battle mightily to get his powers under control. And she knows that while he’s largely managed that, it’s still not 100 percent. Moments of intense stress, or great distraction, can foil his control, sending a wave of ice radiating out until he’s recovered it again, although it generally doesn’t take him long to do that.

She’s not thinking analytically right now.

Neither is he.

She’s also not thinking about how she’d earlier asked Gideon not to interrupt them, simply because she and Len needed to have that conversation. It’s a request she hasn’t rescinded…and Gideon, for an AI, is possessed of enough of a sense of humor to make use of that.

Both of them tend to be highly aware of their surroundings, but between physical sensation, emotional entanglement, and the remaining warm buzz of the mystery alcohol, well…they’re not, not this time. They don’t hear anyone enter the ship, or anyone call for them. Just each other.

“Sara…I…” Len’s voice is unhinged, and oh, Sara’s pretty sure they’re both so very close. She doesn’t want to talk, so she stops his mouth with hers.

Which might have, in hindsight, been a mistake. He doesn’t tell her he feels control about to slip, even as they both know another sort of control is about to go, for both of them.

Only a moment later, indeed, Len jerks his hands away from her, bracing them on the counter instead. Sara gasps at the lack of that touch, but then gasps again, leaning her head back, letting go, even as she (very, very distantly) feels a rising chill around them through the warmth that envelopes her.

Len cries out, even as she does, and the cold intensifies as they move together one more time. Sara, breathing hard, opens her eyes and stares at the ceiling, then slowly moves her head to look at Len, who, eyes dark, is staring back at her as he pulls away, as she gingerly lowers her unsteady feet to the ground. Then she looks down, at the ice around her, around his hands as they’re still tensed on the edge of the counter, at the sheen of the ice across the countertop, at the shards sparkling here and there, in the bowl of apples a few feet away, lodged in the box of cookies Nate keeps leaving out on the counter.

Not a single shining fragment had touched her.

Len’s blinking at her, sense coming back to his eyes. “Are you OK?” he asks urgently. “Sara…”

“I’m fine,” she hastens to tell him. “I’m better than fine. Len…”

And then they hear the voice, coming closer.

“Sara? Where are you?”

Her eyes widen, meeting Len’s startled blue gaze. He blinks, then pulls his hands free of the ice, looking down at his torn shirt, at the pants pushed down past his ass, at the icy mess around them. And then, darting her an apologetic look, he promptly ducks down, behind the counter.

Well, they do say turnabout is fair play. Sara sighs, adjusting her skirt, turning to the door and smiling at Jax as he pauses in the doorway.

“Everything OK?” she asks casually, ignoring the melting ice around her, running a hand through her mussed hair.

Jax eyes her, but he doesn’t move farther into the room. “Uh. We asked Gideon where you were, but she didn’t answer. Are you OK?”

“Fine.” Sara lets her smile widen, hoping it doesn’t look too much like, well, like she’d just been doing precisely what she’d been doing with their mutual teammate. She’s pretty sure, though, that she doesn’t quite pull it off.

Jax’s brow furrows. He may not have multiple degrees like his counterpart in Firestorm, but he’s not stupid. In fact, she thinks, sometimes he’s smarter than all of them.

He doesn’t comment on that situation, though.

“Gray didn’t bother to tell any of us that he, ah, still ran with a rather interesting crowd even into the ‘90s,” he says instead, leaning against the doorway. “We got outta Dodge even as younger Gray did, avoiding the cops looking for weed. Thought it’d be better to avoid running into him again, or complicating matters. The others are still guarding that cop.”

Sara snorts in laughter even as she turns the situation over in her head…and tries to ignore the way Len has decided to start kissing her inner ankle, because he’s just an asshole like that.

“Good,” she says. “Everyone’s good?”

Jax smirks at her in a way that gives Sara the uneasy feeling he’s definitely more aware of what’s going on than he lets on. “Yeah. Mick’s still that dude’s new BFF. Which is weird, but hey. You OK?”

“Just fine, little brother.” Sara tries to convey the relaxation she doesn’t want to explain. “Um,” she says, answering the question the second time around. “I’m fine. Really. It’s…good. How are you?”

Jax grin grows. Oh, hell. “Oh, I’m fine, too,” he returns. “Though maybe not so fine as you.”

Sara lifts her chin and glares at him, which just makes him laugh. The sound of Stein’s voice farther down the hall reaches them, and she tenses, but Jax winks at her, turning away from the door.

“Hey, Gray,” he calls, moving away from the doorway. “Did you…”

The door slides shut behind him. Sara stares at it, then rolls her eyes.

“Gideon,” she says flatly. “Don’t let anyone else in. And tell me if anyone else comes back on the ship.”

“Yes, Captain Lance,” the AI replies almost sweetly. “Of course.”

Sara ignores her and looks back at Len as he gets to his feet, rebuttoning his jeans and smirking at her. But then, he looks at the mess on the counter, icy fragments and pools of water, and that smirk flees instantly, an odd look taking over his eyes.

Sara surveys the scene, too, even as she wonders about his expression. “Well,” she says with a sigh, “time to clean up. At least ice is ultimately just water.” She throws him a grin. “And it was worth it.”

It’s true. But Len’s still staring at the scene, thinking about how he’d lost control again, even in a small way, even if he hadn’t hurt Sara. And it’s impossible not to think about the other ways he’s screwed up, the damage he has caused. His fingers tighten on the counter, and he closes his eyes, willing the images away.

Sara notices. Of course she does.

“I’m fine,” she tells him quietly, reaching out to put a hand on his wrist. “Wonderful, even. You didn’t hurt me.”

Len shakes his head roughly. “I’m glad. But I…”

“It could be worse.”

“Yeah. It could. It is.”

And then he tells her. About the mistakes he’s made. The mess he’d left behind him, back on his Earth. The debts he has to pay.

And when he’s done, Sara’s staring back at him. She doesn’t seem to recoil from him, or even to think worse of him for his actions, and that’s a relief. But she also tightens her fingers around his wrist, and he knows what she’s going to say.

“You have to go back,” she tells numbly. “You have to fix it.”

They’re not the words he wants to hear, but they’re the ones he knows are true.

“I know.”

#subterfuge #captain canary #leonard snart #sara lance #legends of tomorrow

4 notes · View notes