(Len: 11 Mick: 13)
"Who are you?"
Mick turned around with anger in his expression.
"My name is Mick. That's all your getting."
The little boy cocked his head before sticking his hand out.
"My name is Leonard. Leonard Snart."
Mick raised an eyebrow.
"My daddy taught me to have good manners." Mick didn't miss the slight wince, but he chose to ignore it.
He didn't fail to notice the obvious bruise right below Leonard's collar, but he figured now wasn't the time to bring it up.
It wasn't his business.
"Why are you here?"
"'Cause I burned my house down."
Leonard stared at him.
"Was it fun? Watching your family burn?"
No one had ever asked him that before.
"Yeah. Yeah, it was."
Leonard nodded. "I would prefer to watch ice slowly overtake their bodies, but flames would work just as well."
Mick let the anger in his expression fade.
"I think I might like it here."
Leonard smiled at him.
"If you're gonna stay here, you can call me Len."
Mick smirked.
"I prefer Lenny."
...
Mick yawned as he shoved beer bottles off his stomach.
He briefly wondered how they had stayed in place before hopping off the chair.
He went to the bathroom.
After, he realized just how long it had been since he'd eaten.
After searching his kitchen, he remembered that he didn't have any food.
And it wasn't like he could just walk into a grocery store. Especially since he was known for stealing at half of them.
He sighed.
Guess he would have to rob someplace.
...
He finally decided on pizza.
If he was gonna have pizza, it was gonna be from Dominos, the best pizza place on Earth.
...
After stealing a pizza (really, it had been easy), Mick realized he had no idea what he wanted to do today.
He had a killer hangover from last night, so no more drinking (sadly).
He didn't feel like being naked.
His hangover made it seem like robbing someplace would be a bad idea.
And he couldn't hang out with any Rogues because of his fight with Lenny.
He sighed.
Bar it is.
...
Even if he couldn't drink, one of Mick's favorite places in the world was Saints and Sinners.
He definitely fell into the 'sinners' category, but in a shady place like that, no one cared.
He wasn't looking to get laid, but if offered it wasn't like he was gonna refuse.
He sat at a barstool and scanned the place.
Good. Lenny and friends weren't here.
He looked around again (just to make sure) when he saw someone who he had not been expecting.
Barry Allen, aka the Flash.
Mick knew he should leave the guy alone, but he was the Flash in the shadiest bar in town.
He really shouldn't check on him...
Screw it.
He was actually gonna try and stay out of trouble today.
Maybe tomorrow.
...
When Mick got home, he was surprised to see someone there.
Lisa.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he growled.
She raised her hands up in surrender.
"I'm here to tell you to apologize."
Mick shook his head. He didn't care if he was being stubborn.
He wasn't apologizing.
Lisa sighed.
"Please?"
Mick raised an eyebrow.
She rolled her eyes.
"Fine. I'll leave. Just... consider it, alright?"
Mick shrugged.
...
The next day, Mick decided he was gonna get wasted.
Why not?
...
Mick went to S&S (Saints and Sinners) again.
He was surprised to see Barry there again.
That was weird.
The kid really didn't seem like a hero.
In fact, he looked like he really down.
Mick shrugged.
It wasn't his business.
He took a sip of his beer.
He couldn't seem to move his gaze from the kid.
The way the tight shirt did nothing to hide how muscular he was...
Come on, Mick! You don't want to screw your enemy!
Or did he?
He wanted to slam his head on the bar.
...
Mick had always considered himself good at pool.
Keyword being had.
After playing Barry Allen, though, he was seriously doubting that.
Barry seemed to put all of the right force and speed behind each ball.
It was driving him crazy.
He was determined to score at least one point.
He was gonna beat him.
...
That was the last thing he remembered.
...
Mick groggily opened his eyes, pain exploding in his head.
"Oh my God," he muttered.
He clutched his head in agony.
God, that hurt worse than the normal hangover.
The last thing he remembered was...
Playing pool and losing miserably to one Barry Allen.
Why couldn't he remember anything after that?
He felt someone's hand slip under his arm.
Huh. So that's what happened next.
He briefly wondered who caught his attention.
He shifted, but the hand was firm.
"Hey."
Mick swore he recognized that voice from somewhere, but he shrugged it off.
"I don't remember anything from last night," Mick admitted.
The hand's grip loosened, giving Mick the opportunity to turn around to see the man.
It was Barry fricking Allen.
Otherwise known as the Flash, or Mick's enemy.
Well, shit.