Gotham City
Gotham was the last place Leonard Snart had ever imagined settling down, but Sara had fallen head over heels for the quirky edifice of dark red and gray brick, and if there had ever been a time when he was capable of telling her 'no,' it had long since faded into the mists of legend. She loved the alternating bricks of shiny dark red Lucite and rough clear glass that made up the bar, and had taken a childish delight in mounting a dart board on a scarred brick pillar.
Leonard himself appreciated the wrought iron detailing on the roof, and the funky brick trim around the windows. He'd installed a top-notch security system, complete with a hidden panic room. OK, honestly, it was more of 'place to hide stuff we don't want the GCPD to find out about' room. Old habits. And then there was that…thing…up on the roof. Sara reminded him that they were in his city now, and they were supposed to be good guys, and that they needed to play by the local rules. Whatever. She was happy. That was all he really needed to know.
Mick occupied the basement mancave. Sara and Leonard had the upstairs apartment. It was tiny, but worth it to wake up with Sara in his arms every morning. He did grumble about wanting to enclose the deck. He might enjoy the view of Sara in the little hot tub, but that didn't mean he wanted anyone else to. Sara just laughed, and reminded him that Mick's grill was up there, and did they really want him to burn the place down, after they had just done all the restoration work? (Among other things, they'd acquired a vintage juke box that played a lot of Captain and Tenille.)
"I don't like this," Bruce Wayne muttered - yet again.
"Get over it," Selina Kyle snapped.
"I just don't like the idea of a bunch of displaced vigilantes taking up residence. There's enough problems in this city already."
"And I'm telling you - they're not a problem. This area's safer than it has been in years. The people who bought this place take serious offense with men who won't take no for an answer."
"That's part of the GCPD's job."
"They're nowhere near as effective as a rather…pointed…reprimand from the bartender."
"That's the former assassin, right?"
"That's the woman who's keeping a helluva a lot of other women safe," she corrected. "And the big guy, with the scarred arms - he'll feed anyone who needs it. No questions asked."
"And whose idea was that?" he demanded, jerking his chin in the direction of the object on the roof.
"Jim Gordon. He thought it was a good idea to have another signal, visible from this part of the city. It also reinforces the idea that this is a safe place, run by the good guys."
A noncommittal grunt was Bruce's reply, as he paused in the alley, staring at a bit of stubborn graffiti that had somehow eluded the powerwash. 'Bad Wolf.' Whatever the hell that might mean. He shook his head and continued on.
"And just this once, why can't we go in the front door and talk, like normal human beings?" Selina persisted, as he began to climb up the fire escape.
"Since when do you pass up a chance to creep around rooftops?"
"Since the rooftop is already occupied," she replied sweetly, right about the same moment that they both heard the whine of the cold gun powering up.
"Like the lady said," Snart drawled, aiming over the ledge. "Civilized folk come in through the front door."
"You wouldn't want us to think you was unfriendly, now would you?" Mick added, aiming the heat gun at them from the sidewalk.
"I don't care who they are or what they did. You better not mess up my - oh, hey, Selina." Sara Lance paused on the sidewalk, looking up at the tableau of her two rogues aiming weapons at two 'guests' dangling from the fire escape. "Something wrong with the front door?" she asked mildly.
Selina glared at Bruce, and likely would have kicked him, if her feet weren't otherwise occupied.
"Would you believe we were testing your security system?" she said glibly.
Sara just raised an eyebrow.
Selina sighed. "All right. If he promises to behave, can we come in and have a drink?"
"Hey!" Bruce exclaimed.
"We're not the ones who's trespassing, pal," Mick reminded him pleasantly.
"Like I said," Snart drawled, "we're retired." He had his chair tipped back into the corner, affording him a perfect view of the room.
"That's fine," Bruce replied patiently. "Why couldn't you retire to Central City?"
"Because Sara wanted to open her own bar. She picked this one."
There was a certain something in Snart's eyes and voice when he looked at the tiny blonde, and Bruce got that. He really did. He opened his mouth to respond -
"Master Bruce, I do hope you're not here to stir up any trouble," Alfred Pennyworth said, with the slightly disapproving tone that had been making Bruce squirm since he was a boy.
"Evening, Alfred," Snart said genially. "Mick's in the kitchen."
"Very good, sir."
Bruce's eyes widened as he took in the neatly folded apron on his butler's arm, and the market basket of produce he carried.
Snart smirked. "He and Mick are collaborating on the perfect burger."
"How did he even know about this place?"
"Alfred's a very resourceful fellow. He knows lots of things. Including where to find his favorite stout. Sara stocks it for a friend."
Both men glanced back at the bar, where Sara and Selina were chatting. They watched Alfred hand Sara a carton of enormous ripe strawberries with a courtly nod, earning himself a peck on the cheek from each woman.
"Looks like I'm outnumbered," Bruce admitted with a sigh.
"Looks like," Snart agreed.