Captain Canary - Established
Set in a world where we got Len back, people didn’t die, and Sara & Len semi-retire somewhere outside of Central.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sara wakes with a groan, instinctively searching out Len’s warmth as her body aches. She feels the amused chuckle rumble through his chest as his arm wraps around her. “Morning.”
“I hate cold weather,” she grumbles in response, pulling the blankets up to her chin.
He hums in agreement, “it’s supposed to be quite a storm. Temperature is pretty low, even for this time of year.” She looks up, knows without asking that he’s hurting as well. One of her hands slides under his sleepshirt, gently rubbing over old injury sites. He sighs, head coming down to rest against her shoulder. “I turned the heat up last night, but I’ll get the fireplace running when we get up.”
“Thank you,” she tilts her head to catch his lips in a soft kiss.”
“We could be somewhere warm,” he drawls, heads still touching.
“I told you, I’m not celebrating Christmas in the tropics somewhere. I’ve had enough warm holiday seasons for a lifetime.” Her gaze narrows, “besides, you promised Lisa we’d be here this year.”
He offers a hum of acknowledgment, shifting toward the edge of the bed; laughing softly as Sara whines in protest. “I’ll start the coffee.”
She lets him go, but remains curled under the warm sheets a while longer. Eventually she drags herself to the edge of the bed, slipping on fuzzy socks and one of Leonard’s sweaters before padding through the house. When she reaches the kitchen Len’s pouring two mugs of coffee. The shades are drawn, but she can still see the telltale glow of snow outside.
“So…” she walks over, gratefully accepting the offered mug. “Movie day?”
“I think I can make room in my schedule,” he leans against the counter.
Sara scoffs, “I hardly think the Flash is going to be needing Captain Cold today.” He smirks motioning toward the living room, her trailing behind him. He moves toward the fireplace and Sara takes a moment to admire the small tree lit in the corner. Reminded each morning what a gift it, and many little things of the season, are after so many years denied them.
“What film did you have in mind?” Len glances back as he kneels to begin arranging the wood.
“Don’t know yet,” Sara settles on the couch, mug on the end table beside her. “Let’s see what the wonderful world of streaming has for us today.” She logs in, pausing her scrolling to admire the view of her lover as he leans in to get the fire started.
After a moment he glances back at her, brow rising as he offers a knowing smirk. “Something you like?”
She just grins back, offering a little shrug. “What about Year Without a Santa Clause?”
“Lisa & I always liked that one,” he nods, body protesting audibly as he rises to his feet. He retrieves his coffee mug from the mantle, dusting his hands on his pants as he makes his way over. Sara starts the movie, tucking into his side and throwing a blanket around their legs the moment he sits down.
One movie turns into two, both of them dozing off while curled together. Sara wakes to Leonard shifting, pulling back enough to look up at him. “Everything okay?”
He nods, motioning toward the front door. “Just going to go clear the drive.” She must make a face, because before she can reply he adds. “Don’t want the pizza guy to slip later.”
“Ooh, pizza does sound good.” She straightens, blanket pooling at her waist.
“I thought it might,” he tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear.
“You want help?” She puts her feet on the cool floor, fighting the urge to curl back up once more.
He shakes his head, “shouldn’t take that long to clear a path.” He gives her an amused look. “You don’t have to leave your nest, little bird.”
She rolls her eyes, tilting her head to look up at him. “Actually, I was thinking I’d start a pot of cocoa?”
He brightens, “I won’t talk you out of it.”
“I know,” she grins, shifting up for a lazy kiss. She releases him reluctantly, remaining in her warm cocoon until she hears the front door shut behind him. She sighs, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders as she makes her way to the kitchen. Once the ingredients are mixed she makes her way to the window; watching Leonard shovel the near foot of snow. She shakes her head, chuckling to herself. Who would have thought Captain Cold & the White Canary could be domestic.
She’s back to stirring the cocoa when she hears him come back in, quickly putting the lid on the pot and making her way toward the door. Len is hanging his snow-covered coat, pieces of tread shaped slush scattered across the rug. “That won’t stay clear long, but it’s a start.” He toes off his shoes, and she notes how the light reflects off the few resilient snowflakes caught in his long lashes. “You’re staring again, Lance.” He smirks, eyes sparkling with amusement against his flushed cheeks.
She wants to comment on how unfair it is that he can manage to be ridiculously attractive no matter his environment. Instead she just tugs at the damp sleeve of his sweater, “you should change into something dry.”
While he does so she ladles cocoa into the now empty coffee mugs, sliding his mug and a bag of marshmallows across the counter as he enters. She puts a healthy serving of whipped cream on her own before lifting the mug to her lips. They remain in the kitchen, leaning side-by-side against the counter.
“You know what the best part of not sharing space with a team is?” She grins, moving so she’s standing just in his space.
“Not sharing a bathroom?” he raises a brow.
She laughs, “yes, but also.” She rises on her toes to kiss him, this one less chaste than the last. She hears him set his mug on the counter, hands settling at her waist as he deepens it until she tastes the sticky sweetness of his marshmallows. She takes a moment to recover her breath as they separate, grinning up at him. “No one to stumble in and interrupt us.”
“Are we thinking of doing something you don’t want interrupted?” he smirks, thumbs brushing just under her shirt.
She places her mug next to his, fingers lacing together behind his head. “Maybe…” she presses closer, “unless you object?” In answer he shifts them so she’s pressed against the counter; followed by her startled laugh as he lifts her to perch on the edge.
Her legs hook behind him, head tilting as he leans in to kiss her soundly once more. Her fingers play at the nape of his neck, and he begins trailing slow kisses down her throat. She’s just tilted her head to give him better access when he stops, chuckling against her skin. “So much for no interruptions.”
“What?” She shifts, following his gaze to where snow is violently blowing against the glass door. “You have got to be kidding me!” she groans.
“To be continued then,” Len places one last kiss to her lips. Then steps back, motion to the door. “You get our guests, I’ll make more cocoa.”
Sara sighs, slipping off the counter and straightening his sweater as she walks. By the time she reaches the glass door the snow is settling, jumpship cloaked aside from where the team is stepping into the yard.
She watches in amusement as Mick glares at the increasingly deep snow. The girls pulling their coats a little tighter as they make their way across the yard. On the other end of spectrum Ray is bounding through the snow like an oversized puppy, nailing Constantine in the shoulder with a snowball while laughing.
As the girls approach Sara opens the door, stepping aside so they can escape the frigid temperatures. Mick is the last one through the door, pulling it shut and offering Sara a short nod in hello.
“Surprise!” Ray quickly makes his way up, pulling her into one of the crushing hugs he’s known for. “Merry Christmas!”
She smiles, returning the embrace, “Merry Christmas, Ray.” When he released her she glances around at the crew. “This is a social call, right?”
“That is correct, Captain Lance.” A new figure steps forward, as Ray shifts to greet Leonard.
“Gideon,” Sara grins, stepping forward to embrace the android. “It’s good to see you.”
“You as well,” Gideon returns the brief hug, smiling back at her. She glances to where several of the group are pestering Len in the kitchen. “You and Mister Snart look well.”
Sara nods, “we are, and you?”
“I am enjoying the freedom this form offers.” She smiles, “and the Waverider is holding up well, it is being touched up by the time agents while we are here.”
“I’m glad they are still playing nice,” Gideons face tells her it’s not without complications, but then it never was. “And the team, are they behaving?”
“Behaving, love? When have you lot ever worried about that?” Constantine comes forward, grinning at both women. “If they aren’t unruly, are they really Legends?”
Sara shifts her attention, brow raising as she regards him. “I didn’t know you were back on board.”
“Oh, I’m not.” He waves the idea off, inclining his head toward the ship. “Was visiting Gary at the office when this lot came in.” He shrugs, “figured I’d join for a visit.”
Sara smiles, doesn’t comment on how he looks sober, showered, and a little less like the world is on his shoulders. “It’s good to see you, John.”
He offers a small smile of his own, “yeah.” Then the glint of mischief is back in his eyes, “now where’s that handsome lover of yours?” She motions to the kitchen and with a wink he bows out.
Gideon watches him walk away, “he may not travel with us, but he frequently helps out.”
“Good,” Sara nods. “I’m glad he’s found something, someone to ground him.” She returns her attention to Gideon one brow raising. “Speaking of finding people, how is Rip?”
The other woman softens, and Sara is again baffled at how human she looks. “Captain Hunter is busy as always, though he sends his regards.” She gets a playful smile, “he has invited me to stay with him over the holiday while the crew is on leave.”
Sara grins suggestively, “Merry Christmas indeed.” Gideon offers a little nod, face heating only slightly.
“Cocoa’s ready!” Ray calls excitedly, and everyone begins making their way toward the kitchen.
xxXxx
It’s not long before everyone has a cup in hand; people spread between the den and kitchen as they settle into groups. Sara makes a point of briefly talking with everyone, smiling as she enters the kitchen to find Len and Mick leaned opposite against the counters as they talk. She loves watching the men reconnect whenever they get the chance. In the time since Len’s return they have both grown into different men; and yet they always remain a complementary pair.
She’s not sure which notices her first, Len offering a half smile while Mick inclines his head. The pair shifting to make room for her as she approaches. “Dinner, we still thinking Pizza?”
Leonard raises a brow, “for the whole crew?”
He looks over at Mick, who rolls his eyes. “I’ll have Gideon transfer funds over to you later.”
“Good enough for me,” Sara grins before motioning to the other room. “I’ll find out what everyone wants.”
As she returns with the list the doorbell rings. They look at each other quizzically, Len motioning for her to order while he makes his way to the door. She’s just dialed the number when she hears the off-key caroling from the front of house. Followed by Len’s resigned, “better add to that order, Asassin.”
She covers the receiver with her hand, “who is it?”
Before he can answer Lisa dances into the room, the rest of Team Flash on her heals. “The people apparently crashing a party you failed to invite us to.”
Sara rolls her eyes, “do I look like I planned to have a party today?” motioning to her fuzzy pajama pants and Len’s sweater. “Get over here,” she motions Lisa closer to give a one armed hug to the other woman.
Once the pizza is ordered she looks at Len quizzically. “Everything good?”
He nods, arms crossing over his chest as he settles back against the counter. “Apparently the storm has knocked out the electric in Central. Since cold isn’t exactly Barry’s strength, my sister suggested they come out for a visit.”
“They know you have a backup for storms, and a fireplace.” Sara chuckles.
“Most likely,” he nods, running one hand over his head. “I should probably clear a path for pizza again.”
Sara snorts, “why?” She motions toward the crowd of people, “get them to do it.”
He smirks, “perhaps.” His gaze narrows at Mick, who’s standing close enough to overhear. “No fire,”
“Your loss,” the larger man replies gruffly. Kicking the leg of Ray’s chair, “come on haircut, grab the others so we can get this over with.”
xxXxx
They clear the full driveway, as well as the walkway to the door in short order. When the delivery boy arrives with a tower of pizza, Leonard tips him handsomely for braving the storm.
Sara’s not sure how everyone manages to cram into the den, but they’d insisted on watching a movie together. She is perched on the arm of Len’s chair, hand over his shoulder as his fingers rub soft circles at her hip. They’ve made it about half through Die Hard when the lights flicker and then the electric goes out entirely.
The room fills with a mix of swearing and disappointed sounds. Leonard just sighs, Sara moving as he rises. “Mick,” he grabs his phone, stepping between sitting people to meet the other man at the fireplace. Soon the fire is roaring, bathing the den in a warm light.
While a few of them go to get the generator running Sara heads to the kitchen for their stash of flashlights. “Hell of a storm.” Charlie states, helping her check batteries.
“Yeah, think the last time we had one like this was when I was a kid.” Sara flips the last light in her hand, shutting the drawer of batteries. “Luckily this is house full of survivors.”
Charlie nods, and they make their way back through to pass flashlights out while Lisa and Iris set up the handful of powered lamps around the house.
Once the generator is running the lights come back on, but no one releases their alternative light sources. Mick, Len and Barry return, coats white with snow and faces red from the wind. Once they’ve shed their outer layers they approach. Gideon rises, stepping up to meet Sara as Barry breaks off from the other two.
“How do we look?” Sara asks, watching Len rub his hands together.
“The generator works fine, but I think we should limit power usage as much as possible. It will be a while before they are going to get things up and running again.” He replies with a shake of his head.
“I must advise we remain here,” Gideon looks between the three. “The jumpship was not built for flight in these conditions.”
“She’s right.” Mick nods, looking curiously at his partner. “If that’s okay with you?”
Sara shrugs. “We’ll figure something out.” She smiles at him, “that’s what family does.”
Mick gives her a small smile, then motions to the team. “I’m going to go update them.” Gideon following behind.
Sara steps closer, taking Len’s hands in her smaller warm ones. “You okay with this?”
He shrugs, looking from her to the rest of the house. “Not like we can force them out.” He shakes his head, “I’ve spent enough winters without heat, wouldn’t wish that on any of them.”
“Saving the day as usual,” Sara smiles, reaching up to frame his face in her hands.
“Someone has to look after this lot.” He softens, “like you said, they’re family.” He sighs, pressing a soft kiss to her palm before motioning through the house. “Come on, we’ll have to find blankets and pillows.”
xxXxx
Sara doesn’t think she’s ever seen so many people in a house. Still, they manage to find sleeping bags and blankets for nearly everyone. Bodies stretched out in the den, kitchen & spare room. Flashlights and spare batteries have been handed out, Mick staying in the den to keep the fire burning overnight.
Finally Sara and Len make it to their room, changing into even warmer sleepwear before making their way toward the bed. Sara is perched on the side, phone in hand as she glances up at him. “What do you think?”
She turns to show him a picture of the living room. Sleeping bags and blankets spread over every flat surface. One group playing cards by flashlight, Mick feeding the fire, & several pairs asleep curled under blankets together.
“I’m surprised you got one so clear.” He moves to grab a lamp from the desk.
“Took a few tries.” She concedes, then chuckles. “I want to send it to mom; add a note saying we already have a house full of kids.”
He snorts, pressing a kiss to her crown. “Not sure that’s what she means when she asks you about them.”
“Yeah well, it’s the best she’s going to get.” She shakes her head, putting the phone down before sliding into bed. “I have my hands more than full with them, even if it’s only part time now.”
He slides in behind her, smiling into her hair as she curls into him. “She does seem to like Lisa and Mick well enough.”
“Can you imagine her with Gideon, or Constantine.” She giggles at the thought.
“I’m not sure she’s ready for that quite yet.”
They fall quiet for a few minutes, content to just enjoy the warmth of being together. Len’s just starting to dose off when she speaks again. “Did you ever imagine we’d have something like this…so many people who care surrounding us?”
“No,” he replies softly. “Didn’t believe I’d like it either.”
“Aww,” Sara pulls back, and even in the dark he can see her teasing smile. “Has Leonard Snart gone soft?”
He smiles back, “just a little.” He shifts to press his forehead to hers. “but I’ll deny it if you say a word to anyone else in this house.”
She laughs, “of course.” She reaches up, hand resting along his jaw. “I love you, Len.”
“Something else I’d never expected to have, especially from a badass hero.” He whispers, kissing her slowly.
She laughs before snuggling into his chest once more, “that makes two of us.”
It’s quiet for a beat, then he leans in to speak near her ear, “still sure you don’t want to spend the holiday on an island somewhere?”
She groans, offering a half-hearted hit to his chest. “Will you just go to sleep.”
Er, I'm new to this ask buisness, but I was wondering-- Do you think you could go a canon divergence, (maybe with a little coldwave thrown in there), where the Waverider crew ends up in Gotham?
By an overwhelming three votes to zero, here’s the Mick-with-friends short fill I mentioned :) @coin-in-the-wishing-well, I hope you don’t mind that it’s a bit Mick-centric!
AO3 Link
–
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Nate chants.
“It’s okay,” Sara says, though she sounds a little nervous herself. “It’s just Gotham.”
“It’s Gotham,” Nate hisses.
“What’s the matter with Gotham?” Amaya asks.
“Gotham has the largest supervillain population in the United States,” Nate says. “Worst of the worst. The real crazies. Poison gas, fear gas, acid, killer plants – basically, if humanity has had a nightmare about it, it’s probably shown up in Gotham. Which we’re currently stuck in!”
“But, you know, maybe by now…”
“We crashed in 2020,” Stein says. “As of 2016, Gotham was getting worse, not better. Gideon, the supervillain population in Gotham –”
“2020 is the height of the supervillain boom,” Gideon says cheerfully.
“…great.”
“We’re gonna die,” Nate says. “Of all the cities we had to crash into…”
“We just need to get one part to fix the ship and we’ll be able to get out of here,” Ray argues. “In, out, no problem.”
“Has that ever happened?” Jax asks skeptically.
“…it could,” Ray says.
“We need more than just the part,” Sara says regretfully. “We need to know why the Legion of Doom has come here.”
“Oh,” Ray says. “Well, in that case, yeah, we’re totally going to die.”
Sara rolls her eyes at him. “This is how we’re going to play it,” she says. “Amaya, you’re with me, we’re going to scout for intel; Stein, Ray, Nate, you guys are in charge of finding the part. Mick, Jax –”
“I’m going to a bar,” Mick says.
“You are not!”
“Watch me,” he says, draining his beer and standing up. “You legal yet, kid?” he asks Jax.
“Uh, yeah.”
“You can come with, if you like.”
Sara throws her hands up in annoyance. “Fine,” she says. “Jax, you keep an eye on Mick; you two will be our back-ups. Don’t let Mick get too drunk.”
Jax follows Mick out the door of the Waverider. “They know you’re a grown man who can take care of himself, right?” he asks.
“They forget sometimes,” Mick says. “C’mon.”
“Are we actually going to a bar?”
“Yep.”
“…are you serious?” Jax asks plaintively.
“Yep.”
Jax sighs, but keeps following him, fiddling a bit with the communications in his pocket.
Mick heads straight to the bar on Seventh Ave. Strictly speaking, it’s a speakeasy, not a bar: it serves alcohol, but it doesn’t have a sign on the door and there’s a guy just inside the door to keep uninvited guests from coming in. But everyone calls it a bar.
The guy grunts companionably at Mick and raises his eyebrows at Jax, but doesn’t say a word.
Yeah, Mick figured it’d go much this way.
The inside of the place is surprisingly upmarket, given how shabby the outside is: nice padded armchairs all around sturdy tables that are nailed down, a small stage with a piano, a long bar with a wide variety of options and a few stools.
Mick drops himself down in an armchair. You don’t go sit by the bar if you know what’s good for you.
Jax follows suit and sits next to him. “Nice place,” he observes, his tone suggesting that he would have expected Mick to find a dive bar where the drinks are cheap.
Joke’s on him. The drinks here are free.
“Mick, darling!” a familiar voice shouts and before Mick can do anything to stop him, he’s got a lap full of what can only be described as an extremely voluptuous set of curves and pine-scented freshness.
“Pammy?” he asks, blinking, instinctively bringing his arms around her. She’s even greener than he remembered, her mostly naked skin lightly dappled with leaf-like shadows and what might be bark. “Did you forget what clothing was again?”
“Ivy, Mick,” she scolds him lightly. “It’s Ivy now, you know that. No, but wait – you’ve got a few rings less on you than you ought. Is this your time-traveling phase?”
“Did I mention that to you?” he asks, ignoring how Jax is having trouble breathing.
“Of course,” she says. “When are you from? That was – mid-2017, wasn’t it?”
“End of 2016, start of 2017,” he says, shrugging.
“How adorable,” Ivy says. “Harley’s just powdering her nose; she’ll be back out in a minute – you’ll know it’s her by the joyful screeching.”
“Tell me she’s murdered that clown ex of hers,” Mick says.
“Joker? Oh, no, he’s still around. She did beat him in an inch of his life, though, and they’re very firmly broken up now.”
“Good,” Mick says, and turns his head to nod at Bane when the large man walks by on his way to his favorite armchair in the corner.
“You want a drink?” Ivy asks. “I’ll mix you up something, fix what’s ailing you.”
Mick nods and releases from his arms, letting her glide over to the bar. The bartender keeps his distance; wise man, but he’d have to be, to work here.
“Mick!” Jax hisses in his ear.
“What?”
“That was Poison Ivy!”
“Yeah,” Mick says. “And Harley Quinn’s in the bathroom, and that’s Bane in the corner, next to Killer Croc. S’probably too early for Penguin or Riddler to show up, unless they’re having a fight again. Those two never stay broken up.”
“Mick, I mean this in the nicest way, but what the hell?”
“Supervillain bar,” Mick says, shrugging. “We got an invite – Len and me, that is – after that first big televised fight against the Flash…”
Thinking of Len makes his shoulders slump, as it always does, but a second later Ivy’s back, holding a glass of something that’s billowing green smoke in her hand which she hands to Mick.
“Is this medicinal or can I give the kid a sip?” Mick ask. Ivy’s bartending skills were second to none and shouldn’t be missed.
“I’ll make him something else,” she says. “That’s just for you.”
“Are you actually going to drink that?” Jax yelps when Mick lifts it to his lips.
Mick drains it.
“Anti-depressants, anti-anxiety, mood stabilization,” Ivy observes, looking pleased. “Plus enough alcohol to knock out a horse.”
Yeah, Mick noticed that part. Yowch.
But he does feel better.
(Ivy’s always been better than regular pharmaceuticals.)
“I guess I’m still invited, even with the hero thing?” he asks. “Since I apparently mentioned it to you and all.”
“Oh, sure,” Ivy says, shrugging. “If we closed our doors to everyone who was doing a spin on the redemption side of the road, we’d lose half our clientele, and then who’d we play poker with? The henchmen?”
“You like your henchpeople,” Mick reminds her.
“They’ve gotten so much happier since Len unionized them,” she admits.
“Mickey!”
“And there’s Harley,” Ivy says, shaking her head. “C’mon, kid, I’ll make you a Fireball, Poison Ivy special variant.”
“You’re not going to kill me, are you?” Jax asks.
“Not in the bar, darling.”
“You’re time-traveling!” Harley announces, plopping down on Mick’s lap like he’s suddenly volunteered to play Santa Claus for the Gotham City Sirens. He wonders idly where Selina is at the moment.
“Yeah,” he says. “How’d you guess?”
“You’re not wearing your coat,” she says promptly, putting her head on his shoulder. “You love that coat: all white and orange and shiny, and more fireproof than the Flash’s heels.”
“White and orange,” Mick echoes skeptically. “Not quite my colors.”
“It’s a fireman’s jacket style,” Harley tells him. “Much less garish than you’d think. Besides, Lenny gave it to you.”
Mick straightens.
“Wait, is he still dead for you?” she asks, concerned.
“He’s not?”
She see-saws her hand. “Complicated, I think,” she says. “But he’s alive again by now.”
Mick lets his head thunk back on the armchair. “If you’re lying…” he warns.
“I’m not, I’m not,” she says. “Cross my heart, hope to die. Here, have my cellphone; you can text him.”
Mick feels a smile start to return to his face.
“I love this bar!” Jax shouts. He’s halfway through the Fireball Ivy made him, and he’s grinning in a way that does not speak of sobriety. Ivy’s smirking at him with the sort of indulgence you always get when you see a first-timer at the bar.
“Know anything about a Legion of Doom?” Mick asks Harley. “Time traveling, passing through here, possibly gonna cause an aberration and screw up the timeline.”
She snatches the cellphone back from where she’s just handed it to him. “I’ll ping Oracle,” she says, grinning. “Don’t you worry, Mick; we girls will take good care of it for you. You just stay here and drink something hot till you feel right side up.”
“You know what,” Mick says. “That was exactly what I was planning on doing. Oh, and if you see my crew…”
“Ivy will make sure that they don’t bother you and cutie-pie mini-Firestorm at the bar there,” Harley says. Her eyes glint dangerously.
Mick kisses her lightly on the forehead, then makes a face at the sour taste of the make-up she still wore.
“Thanks, H,” he says. “You guys are the best.”
Times like this, Mick wonders why the hell he keeps sticking around with the heroes.
This a little piece I’ve had sitting in my drafts almost a year (I don’t think I’ve posted it?). This based, loosely on real events in my house.
I know it’s not technically family, but then again, isn’t that exactly what the Waverider crew is to each other?
CC + Family
Leonard is on his way to breakfast when he hears the clattering of plastic against a hard surface. As he gets nearer to the galley he finds that not only is the sound continuing, but it seems to have a pattern.
Stepping into the room he’s met by one of the strangest sights he’s seen yet, at least for this early. The crew, minus the professor who is cooking, are all seated around one of the tables with plastic cups in hand. Whatever was happening stops as they break into fits of giggles and laughter. He watches from the doorway as they begin again. The cups sitting face down on the table in front of them, and then Raymond claps twice, hits the table with his fingers, and moves the cup, followed by a clap, picking the cup up and moving it to the right slightly. When he starts the next round Jax joins, by the 4th repetition the whole crew is causing the clamor, passing their cups at the end of each round.
“I’ve got my ticket for the long way round, two bottles of whiskey for the way,” Sara sings over the pattern, voice clear as the moniker she’s chosen.
“And I sure would like some sweet company, but I’m leaving tomorrow what do you say?” Amaya follows, voice different than Sara but no less pleasant.
They continue to sing, and pass the cups until once more it dissolves into laughter. “Who turned breakfast into a choir?” Leonard drawls, walking toward the coffee pot.
“Mr. Palmer’s idea,” Martin replies from the stove, “Team-building exercise, or so he claims.”
“And is it working?” Len shoots a glare to the table, “for anything other than causing headaches?”
“They rather seem to enjoy it,” Martin shrugs, “Even Zari and Mr. Rory once they finally got roped into it.”
“Hmm,” Leonard takes his mug, moving closer to the table. At the end of a round Sara sees him, grinning and motioning for him to sit. He scoffs, shaking his head before nursing his coffee. Mick appears out of his element, but despite his mumbled protests, Leonard sees him give Amaya a small smile. And when Nate fumbles, his cup sliding across the table his partner’s bellowing laugh rings through the room. Accompanied by the flustered historian and the much lighter laughter of Sara and the others.
They all end up humming the song for weeks, tapping out the pattern on any flat surface. Though for his part, Len never admits to learning to pattern to anyone other than Sara, who offers an amused grin before passing cups instead of playing cards. He decides he likes to hear her sing and laugh, even at his expense.
