Five times Leonard Snart finds solidarity with someone of a different religion, and the one time he doesn’t [read on Ao3].
“Kid says repairs on the Time Drive are gonna be a month.”
Stein jerks in surprise when Len speaks, dropping his spoon with a messy slosh into his soup. The sweet, earthy smell of chicken broth tickles Len’s nose and floods his tongue with saliva, though he knows from experience that Gideon’s best synthesized effort still doesn’t hold a candle to the comforting warmth of matzo ball soup made by a loved one.
“Y-yes,” Stein stammers after a minute, glancing surreptitiously around the room first, as though Len might be talking to someone – anyone – else. “I heard.”
“You’ve got a way of tracking dawn and dusk on this ‘ole tin can,” Len observes, his voice a slow, disinterested drawl. Abruptly, he turns the whole of his focus from some abstract point in the corner of the room to Stein and smirks. “I want in.”
Stein blinks, quick and bewildered, then reaches up to adjust his glasses as his brows furrow. Len pushes off the doorframe and wanders to the counter, leveraging himself up to sit, one boot curled under his thigh.
“Really, there is no way to track the sun in a space that exists outside time,” Stein explains.
“But you and Palmer have a system.”
Len’s eyes narrow, something that never fails to make Stein ruffled and insufferably pedantic. “It’s interesting, actually. Many rabbis and Jewish scholars agree that all time-bound mitzvot are exempt once a person leaves Earth,” Stein says. “Of course, not everyone agrees. In fact, Jewish astronauts have been known to use the sunup and sundown times of their origin of departure while on the ISS.”
“Which is what you’re doing,” Len guesses.