{Some people are born with tragedy and poison in their veins

[myheadisaprison]

PSL with strongerthanyouknow + bringstheheat

{The Beginning}

{Other Threads}
Show me your scars [Sara/Len]
Choke this love 'til the veins start to shiver [Sara/Mick]
Affection [Sara/Mick/Len]
Don't you know I'm not your ghost anymore [Len/Sara]
A Quiet Interlude [Sara/Mick - 18+ NSFW]
A stray legend in the making [Sara/Bucky]
How does that work? [Len/Bucky]
You're not beyond saving yet, I will pull you out and save you from yourself [Len/Sara]

{TFLN}
I’m not wearing any pants, but I am wearing a tiara. [Sara/Mick]
I don’t trust my subconscious. Sometimes it sleeps with my exboyfriend. [Sara/Len]
Let's just wait to see what happens before we start making radical plans and starting fires [Leonard/Sara; Leonard/Mick; simultaneous conversations]
I just remembered something. We made out last night, people cheered. [Sara/Len; Sara/Mick; Mick/Len]

Comments

[bringstheheat]

It had been a good night.
Lisa was reunited with her brother and even though the movie sucked just as badly as Mick remembered, he wasn't enduring it alone. There were shared shots, snark and at some point, Sara's feet in his lap. They were both drunk at that point but for a moment, when the weight of her feet registered Mick's heart damn near stopped.

He didn't twitch, didn't pull away. People don't tend to initiate touch with him. Okay, people other than Haircut and Mick tended to growl that sort of shit off.

But she was comfortable with him, resting her feet there and a shot or two later, he even dared to rest a bare hand on her ankle, fully anticipating either a kick in the face or a shot to the balls for his trouble. The blow never came and a shot later his thumb might have started moving in slow, absent circles on warm skin.

Content. He'd gone to bed that night more content than he'd been in a fucking age and Mick was happy to let the whiskey start to drag him down into sleep. Leonard is as tense as a fucking board next to him, but it ain't like he's gonna get his partner to talk about it.

Then there's a weight on his leg. Nothing too unusual. Contact without really inviting more. It's not the first time they've slept like that. But then there are cool fingers tracing down his bare arm and Mick's pulse kicks up for entirely different reasons. "Lenny?" His voice is rough with sleep and whiskey and complete and utter confusion. He could count on one hand the times that Snart had initiated anything like this, maybe less when he had simply reached out to touch him no matter how many times Mick had ached for it over the years.

"'s wrong?" Because something has to be wrong.

[mypriority]

"Nothing," is the immediate lie that falls out of his mouth, cool and casual, like it's the truth. Chalk it up to booze, or being dead-and-not, chalk it up to anything you want, Mick, he's not giving you a reason.

Chances are high, all questions will disappear, forgotten, with Leonard's next choice.

He leans up on one arm and there's the briefest pause as he takes it in-- the confusion, concern, curiosity because this isn't normal, what's happening, this does not compute. It's almost amusing in a weird way, but it's there and gone in a snap because none of what really underlies this is funny at all. He's hurt and jealous and insecure--not that he would ever dare admit as much--and the whole thing has him on a possessive edge. And possessive is the only way that the rough, hungry kiss that comes could be described.

[bringstheheat]

And the most painful thing is, that Leonard has absolutely nothing to be jealous about. Mick has been his since they met up in juvie and he always would be. But dancing around issues regarding touch and space has been more than a little trying at times, forcing Mick to shove down things like want and hurt and rejection and simply accept the way things were.

But before he can give voice to his confusion Leonard is surging forward and kissing him and every coherent thought scatters as their mouths crash together.

Finally.
Please.

It doesn't matter how much he may want to linger over that kiss, the need for air eventually drives them apart even as Mick is wrapping an arm around him, brow still furrowed in confusion. Snart doesn't just do things like this, reaching out and touching like he needs him and he doesn't understand.

[mypriority]

And maybe, if logic could ever hope to reach that part of his brain, Leonard would know that, believe it without question. Maybe mostly he does. Nobody's going to stick by his side for three decades for nothing. But it isn't a logical thing in him, it may even be the only part that is completely saturated in irrationality, but it's there and it's been crawling across his skin, settling in his veins all night.

He doesn't move away when Mick pulls back because oxygen suddenly takes precedence. Doesn't try to escape the arm snaking around him, more that he leans into the comfort of it because of a possessiveness there, in its own right. If not the intention, it's how Leonard reads it and he may buck against it another time but right now it's okay, it's what he needs to feel. An equal pull to claim over the other because it's true.

There are still questions behind Mick's eyes, but Leonard doesn't really feel like talking. There's still the same burning need to claim what he sees as his own. So instead of answering those silent and never spoken questions, he pushes for another kiss, just as intense and bordering on desperate as before.

He moves until he's straddled across Mick.
Mine.
Tongues tangling, fingers twisted in the material of his shirt.
Mine.
Hands roaming, lips brushing across skin, teeth sinking into flesh.
Mine.

Every move, every touch, every kiss is real and open and raw in ways he doesn't know how to be with words. Even if the message gets muddied in the mess, the point is there all the same: I'm here, and I'm yours.

[bringstheheat]

And god help him, Mick is too weak, too worn down by a year of anguish and solitude to even begin to muster the strength to pull away and question what the hell is really going on in his partner's head. Leonard is leaning into every touch, allowing Mick to pull him in close, allowing him to touch and not minding. Never in any of the few times they came together like this did he initiate, kiss him with such desperation and hunger.

So Mick allows himself to be pushed back on the bed, lips hungry on his, hands twisting in his shirt like he means to consume him utterly.
Yours.
Always.

Even as clothes fall away and hands skim across bare skin and they move together in the dark his mind is never far away from those words.

Yours.
Always.
I love you.

Please don't leave me again.

[mypriority]

It's a tangle of emotions poured into every move and every touch until everything is on fire and they're both collapsing in a spent, boneless heap on the bed.

There's a part of him that expects it, now that he's wordlessly made his point, for Mick to need it all put to words. To ask what he refused to before because for once Leonard gave him something he craves far more than is ever spoken of. But now... in the still, quiet of the darkness, it may begged to be asked.

He'll hope against it, even as he settles next to Mick, curled onto his side.

[bringstheheat]

It may begged to be asked.
But Mick won't.

For once, just this one time Leonard had given rather than simply allowed. Emotional confusion will come later. Right now he's going to let the endorphin rush carry him just a little bit longer. To bask and just feel without the complicated shit that keeps chasing them.

Mick shifts, a hand still on his skin because he's going to touch for as long as he's allowed to. He lets the dark and the quiet settle over them.

Just as he slips off to sleep: "I love you."

Leonard isn't an idiot. He has to know. Has to. But there's a weight to saying the words and while he doesn't expect a reaction (hell he fully expects Snart to pretend he's already asleep) he does feel better having said them.

[mypriority]

No question comes and Leonard can't say he isn't glad for it, relieved and it's in that relief he sinks a little deeper into Mick's hold on him. Tonight, it seems, he needs this just as much as Mick does, so for now, he'll relish in it. Even when it will all go back to the way it's always been, in the morning. Even when none of this here, now, changes what always was. When day breaks, he'll be just as cagey and distant as ever.

He's standing on the edge of sleep when when the quiet mumble comes and it's like a brick to the face. Words he'd already heard, in Mick's admission to Sara, but now not just said about him, but to him and the world feels like it's off-balance. It's never been that he didn't know, he's known for years in the loyalty he has for him, the way he protects him, in the way he always stands by him regardless of how far Leonard pushes it. Leonard would have had to be an idiot not to know.

But hearing it is different.
Feeling those words breathed against his skin is different.

Love is...terrifying in all the ways it can break. Be stolen. Fade away. Die.
Leonard has long-since been of the mind that if he doesn't care, it can't hurt him. Don't let people in, don't care, don't feel, and he won't be let down, thrown away, damaged. And that got him through a lot of things in the life he's lead.
But...this is different. Mick is different. Mick isn't just people, he's important, one of the most important pieces of the things that make up Leonard's entire fucking world.

Everything about tonight has been different. Maybe this should be, too. It would fall in line with the rest of it, wouldn't it? But...

"You too." comes the whisper back. It's not the same, but it has to be enough. It's the closest he can get.