DCTV moodboards: Killergold - Fortune favors the Gold
Made for Femslash February 2021 and square N4 “There’s only one bed” on my @flarrowverse-shipyard bingocard. Teen rated drabble behind the read more.
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“Out of all of the safe houses you and your brother have squirreled away, you really expect me to believe the only suitable place was the one with just one bed?”
“Take it or leave it,” is all Lisa says, smugly. As usual, she's enjoying having the final word. Already inside the bedroom, Lisa glances back at Frost over her shoulder; it’s done so casually and yet Frost catches the slightest hesitation to look away, as if she might care whether Frost leaves or sleeps on the couch instead.
It’s touching in a way, and enough to warm Frost’s heart a little more than the Rogues - and Lisa in particular - normally do. But she doubts that’s the kind of touching Lisa is aiming for.
“You’d better be able to deal with cold feet and, well, cold everything.”
Lisa laughs unexpectedly, and heartily at that, before her tone shifts to low and smooth as she practically purrs her response. “Everything, hmm. I like the sound of that.”
In a world where meta-humans have either been captured or turned into criminals, Iris West calls in a favor with her wayward brothers to see the Don of Central City.
@kipsiih i included a little shoutout to you at the end, i hope you get it :D
my writer’s block has been SO DAMN BAD with any luck this doesn’t sUck
Crime pays if you do it right, and Wally and Barry are pretty damn good at racing. Iris still thinks the cartoon portrait of them on the racetrack hanging over the fireplace is a bit too much. But it's not like the cops are gonna find them.
The thought clamps in Iris' throat.
A cluster of yellow lightning rushes Wally in front of her. He's understandably confused. Iris has never contacted him or Barry, much less used the spare key they'd sneaked through her mail.
"Wally," she says, "Remember when you said I had a free IOU?"
It'd been just after the particle accelerator explosion, when all the metas were being forced into hiding. Wally's racing had already presented a viable option for him. With their like powers, he'd invited Barry to join him. That'd been their last conversation.
Wally obviously remembers. His face tightens. He's realized Iris isn't here for reconciliation.
"Yeah," he says. The resignation there jams sympathy at Iris' ribs.
She holds firm. "I need to cash in on that favor."
Wally tries for a smile. "What's up?"
"I need an audience with the Don of Central City."
Wally sets her down in a garage hosting two cars, one yellow, one red. Identical lightning bolts adorn their hoods. An attendant is underneath the scarlet, dressed in a greasy jumpsuit and whistling.
Breathing past vertigo, Iris asks, "What do they call you guys?"
She already knows. Wouldn't be a very good journalist if she didn't. But despite whatever's happened between them, Wally's still the brother she hasn't seen in two years.
Wally's chest puffs behind his crossed arms. "Barry's the Flash. And I am Twister."
"No he's not!"
Iris whirls around, and there's Barry's mussed up hair. Not a random attendant at all.
Wally scowls. "I started before you! Why should I be called Kid Flash?"
"'Cause you're young."
"I am literally two years younger than you."
Barry points cheerfully at him. "Still young. Hey, Iris!"
He nearly lifts her off her feet. The workshop muddles in Iris' eyes.
"Long time no see," Barry murmurs.
"She came to get that favor," Wally says.
"Oh." Barry sets her down. His smile's diminished. "Well, uh. I'm guessing it's important if you came here?"
Wally whispers something in his ear. He blinks.
"Are you sure?"
Iris nods.
"But. Why? If it's for a story―"
"It's not."
Barry and Wally glance at each other uncertainly.
Iris huffs. "I get that it's weird. And dangerous. But if what I've heard is true, then you guys are my best shot."
"What have you heard?" Barry asks.
"Probably that you're Cold's main squeeze," Wally says.
Barry squawks. "I am not!"
"Come on, Barry. Everybody knows you think he's cool."
Iris wants to tease him too. Wants to close her eyes for a second and put them all back in their house, with their dad making lasagna while they all fight over what cartoon to watch.
"Guys!" she barks. They jump. "Can you do it or not?"
Another uncertain glance.
Barry blows out a breath. "I can try."
Iris smiles. "Thank you, Barry."
Barry zips to his phone on one of the workbenches.
"Just be prepared," Wally says.
Iris nods. "I am."
"No, I'm not talking about the Don. I mean, yeah, that's huge. But I mean what comes before that."
"...what do you mean?"
In just under an hour, Barry leads the way to the Don's favorite hangout: Saints and Sinners. Place has been lovingly preserved thanks to the new management, or so Iris hears. She's never been inside.
Leonard Snart's leaning against the bar. His long black coat has pointy lapels and everything. Given her research on how dramatic the man is, Iris shouldn't be surprised.
"Barry," he purrs, sauntering over.
"Snart," Barry replies.
They step into each other's space. Snart's smirking like a cartoon villain. Barry's trying to look serious, but his cheeks are dusted red, and when Snart tells him it's "ice to see him," he turns away to try to hide a smile.
Oh. This is what Wally meant.
"And you must be the long-lost sister," Snart says, "Always a pleasure seeing family members only when they need something."
"Len," Barry murmurs.
Snart doesn't stop scrutinizing Iris, but he adds, "But I suppose I can put in a good word with my sister." He looks back at Barry. "That's all I can do."
Barry nods. "Thanks."
Snart shrugs. "I owed you a favor. Consider us square."
Wally scoffs quietly. "For what? Paying for dinner last week?"
Iris suppresses a snort.
Snart puts up a finger. "If my sister doesn't deem you worth her time, though, I'm throwin' you out."
Snart's face goes cold. "If my sister told me to kill everyone in this bar, Ms. West, I wouldn't hesitate."
Barry smiles like there's nothing creepy at all about that. "You'd hesitate a little with me."
Snart switches back to his coy smirk. "Don't push your luck."
Barry pecks his lips, a rom-com in the middle of a seedy criminal bar. None of the patrons look over. Probably know better.
As Snart disappears through an EMPLOYEES ONLY door, a big guy at the bar raises a shot glass and calls Wally to a drinking contest. Wally speeds over.
"Don't worry," Barry tells Iris, still blushing, "Mick's good, but speedsters can't get drunk."
"Mick. As in Mick Rory?"
"Yeah, he and Snart are back on. I swear I'm the other man sometimes."
He doesn't look put out by this, as if the idea of Cold going for Heat Wave when he's in the picture really is just a joke. Iris wishes she had something that secure.
Wally and Mick are barely swallowing their second shot before Snart opens the door and signals for Iris.
Lisa Snart, AKA Golden Glider and the Don of Central City, relaxes in her private lounge on a gold chair with a beautiful woman in her lap and whiskey at her lips.
Before Iris opens her mouth, she asks, "Do you know what shame is, Miss West?"
Because Iris literally can't help herself, she asks, "Do you?"
Glider and her lovely companion laugh.
"Oh, darling," Glider says, "you're gonna be fun. But that's not what I asked."
"Yes, I do."
"Are you sure? Because those sweet brothers of yours just never shut up about you or your dear old dad. And now you, mean girl, come in and dash their starry-eyed hopes."
There's a gold shimmer in Glider's eyes. If she doesn't get an honest answer, there's a golden Glock on her glass coffee table and none other than Killer Frost nuzzling her cheek, just waiting for an excuse.
Iris briefly spreads her hands. "And I'm ashamed of that."
"Are you?" Frost says, voice tingling ice in Iris' ears.
"Yes," Iris replies emphatically, "Okay? Yes. Of course I am. They're my brothers, and it's not their fault that they're meta-humans. It shouldn't even be a problem! But we had to push them away so they'd disappear."
Glider looks unimpressed.
"Bad plan, I know," Iris snaps, "I know, Miss Glider. My dad and I had a good thing and we botched it. But I can't fix that right now, because my dad is missing, and I need your help."
Glider swirls her painted nails along the rim of her glass. Her other hand traces the same circle on Frost's stomach.
"What kind of help do you need?" Frost asks.
Iris dares a few more steps into the room, boots edging on the faux-fur rug. "I just need access to a few personnel records. You have eyes all over, the docks included. Whoever's taking all these police officers, they all disappear there. It's the only solid lead I have."
Frost's eyes narrow. "You think we have a rat stealing the clean-up crew?"
"They're cops."
Glider twirls a strand of Frost's white hair. "What's a cop to a mobster?"
"I know some of them are valued employees."
"Oh, how cute. A reporter who actually does her job. But since Lenny was so sweet about getting you in here, I'll let that slide for now. Let's talk price, baby."
Frost stands, white lace dress whispering at her knees. How she'd sat like that in that blue corset alone makes her terrifying. She offers a hand to Glider, who's just as much of a vision in her strapless gold cocktail dress and diamond jewelry. Even her heels are gold, because apparently the Snart siblings operate on their themes.
"What's in it for me?" she simpers. "I can't just hand over my files to a reporter. Not that you'll do anything else with them, of course, but it's the principle of the thing."
"There's one more condition."
Glider raises a perfectly painted eyebrow. "You've already laid quite a hefty request on the table, Miss West."
"I want a secure line to my brothers' phones." Iris swallows. "I'm not―now that I've seen them again, I can't. I can't go back to the last two years. Shouldn't be much more to ask. You have secure lines everywhere."
"How would you know that?" Frost asks.
Iris puts her hand on her hip. "Like you said, Miss Glider. I'm good at my job."
Glider tilts her head. She lets the quiet stew. Frost takes her glass.
"None of us are perfect sisters," she says at last.
"I'm not even a sister," Frost adds.
"I've made my share of mistakes with my brother. You do seem to know a little shame."
Glider approaches, not stopping until she and Iris are practically toe to toe. She smells like pomegranate and a hint of mint.
The Snart siblings don't seem to operate on personal space either.
"What's in it for my Family?" she asks.
Iris...had not expected her to be this beautiful. Blurry photos and mug shots do nothing for her.
"I don't have much money." She might not even have a lawful home after this. "But I can do a couple jobs for you. Get info, spread it, whatever. If Barry and Wally really have talked about me so much, you'll know that I have plenty of readers. As long as what I'm spreading is based on facts."
"Are all of you Wests and Allens so honest?" Frost sneers.
"We get it from our dads," Iris replies.
"Ugh. My father sucked."
Glider smiles. "So did mine. Yours seems like the bee's knees, though."
"I didn't tell Barry or Wally why I'm here. Our dad's a good liar," Iris whispers, "After what he forced himself to tell Barry and Wally―I'd understand if they didn't give you a reason to believe―"
"Are you kidding?" Frost says flatly, "They whine about how much they miss his cooking every time Cold refuses to make dinner."
"Cold cooks?" Iris says, before shaking her head and saying, "But he was. He was horrible to them."
He'd cried for weeks after. Almost drank himself down the drain. Iris doesn't say that.
"Yes, before contacting them and apologizing for―what was it, Lise?"
Glider giggles. "Had to've been an hour at least."
Iris stiffens. "He never told me."
"And we still haven't reached an agreement. I'll admit, I could use someone of your caliber. Considering the sensitivity of the files, I'll assign you to more than a couple. We'll be in touch for at least the next month."
Iris tries not to sound too eager: "I can do that."
"And to even it out," Frost says, showing her sharpest grin, "We'll present a second condition."
Iris looks between them. Frost hands her one of the beers. Both mobsters' scents are seamless together, kissing the fresh beer.
"For a meeting?" Iris says, not at all breathless and completely composed.
"Certainly," Glider says with the same purr her brother had used on Barry. "We'll call it that, Miss West."
Frost lifts her bottle. "A toast to good deals."
"Dad!" Joe's kids cry, shamelessly disregarding the other tied-up cops in the shipping crate.
"Iris? Barry, Wally―how?"
No sooner than the speedsters drag them into the open air than the family's collapsed in a laughing heap.
"Anyone who tries to tattle on the detective will make a pretty sculpture," Glider says. On either side of her, Cold and Frost wiggle icy fingers.
Iris puts on a black sequin dress and a necklace that hugs her throat like a collar. She has a feeling Glider and Frost are into that.
Not that she's been thinking about it. Or how many corsets Frost has.
They'd been very helpful with finding her dad.
The hostess welcomes her like she can afford the restaurant every weekend. "The private table in the back! Follow me."
A few Family members are scattered around the main dining room. Iris is pretty sure she sees Cold and Barry in a both, with Rory across. Rory seems a little too focused on his food.
Any implications of that winks out when Iris is ushered into a curtained off section to find Frost and Glider kissing over red wine.
Glider pulls back. She doesn't even try to look innocent. "Why, Iris West! Don't you look lovely. Please," she stands up, gesturing to the curved seat, "there's room for one more."
That's a double entendre if Iris ever heard one. There's no question what the Don means.
Iris sits. "What are we drinking?"
Frost's white hair recedes to red, ice giving way to controlled warmth. When she places her hand on Iris' arm, she's almost the same temperature.
"Oh, honey," she says, "whatever you want."
Len peeks in. "Sis, we're―oh shit!"
"Iris!" Barry shrieks.
Mick hums. "Nice."
"Okay!" Vibe squeaks from a nearby table, "We'll just tie these things closed!"
Glider laughs lowly in Iris' collarbone. "Thank you, Cisco."
