July Challenge - Day 2

[pf_mod]

From Who Owns the Night and Leases Stars

Harm is in us, and power
to harm

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The Flash - Untitled ficlet - Barry Allen/Leonard Snart - PG

[lunesque]

~*~

Leonard slammed another shot of whiskey, squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for the burn to fade. It was his fourth shot in the last twenty minutes, and he knew he should stop, but he also knew that there was no way he was going to make it through their conversation sober. The conversation they were going to have. Whenever Barry got tired of waiting for him to show up.

He hunkered down in his booth, glaring at his empty glass like he was a sulking fifteen year old and not a forty-seven year old adult. Drinking his misery away seemed like a good idea when he first sat down, but now he was blurry, vulnerable. It'd be easier than usual to take him down in this state, and he couldn't deny the fact that the idea of a fight sounded appealing. Maybe a good knock to the head would knock out his damned sentimentality, too.

A shot glass filled with amber whiskey replaced his empty one, and Leonard looked up to see… ah. He tossed back the shot and slammed the glass down on the table. "Well. Look who it is."

Barry's expression was torn somewhere between confusion and hurt, and an insidious slither of malicious delight curled through Leonard.

"I, uh." Barry looked around and slid into the other side of the booth. "What're you doing at a bar, Len? I thought we had plans."

"Right." Leonard tried to smile, but his mouth slid into sneer. He didn't bother to correct it. "Dinner. Doesn't matter. I doubt I could hold a normal conversation. We probably wouldn't have made it past the soup and salad, anyway."

Barry paled and ducked his head, running his hand through his hair in a quick, anxious movement. "You heard that?"

Leonard pinned his gaze on the empty shot glass in front of him. "Thought it would be nice to pick you up."

Barry bit his bottom lip, his eyes shiny and red. "No, I--I didn't mean--I was just trying to get Joe off my back--"

Leonard shook his head; it set off a slow, roiling dizziness, and his stomach knotted, protesting the amount of whiskey he'd tossed back. "Forget it. Just saves us trouble."

"I'm not going to forget it," Barry insisted, reaching out and squeezing Leonard's forearm. It took everything in him not to flinch back. "I was stupid, okay? I didn't want to argue with Joe before I saw you, so I lied. I'm sorry."

Leonard's eyes stung, and he lingered on the strange sensation. It wasn't often he got that upset. Drinking had been a bad idea. Letting a damn superhero with a martyr complex get under his skin was just the icing on the cake.

Leonard took out his wallet and put a wad of cash down for his tab. Once that was taken care of, he looked at Barry again. "Look. You're not the first guy to hide me from daddy." He shook his head. "But here's the thing, Barry. If that's all you got to offer me, then I don't want it. Thought you were better than that."

Barry ducked his head and sucked in a wet-sounding breath, rubbing his sleeve lightning quick against his eyes.

"So here's what I'm going to do," Leonard said, after a short pause. "I'm going to leave, before I'm shit-faced. You're not going to follow me. I'm going to get some sleep."

Barry nodded, the skin around his ears and throat flushed red. "Do I get another chance?"

Leonard titled his head, ignoring the way the rest of the room tilted with him. "Tell you what. You think up a good reason, and I'll listen. That's all I can promise."

Barry nodded. "That's fair. I… really didn't mean to hurt you."

Leonard took a small breath and shook his head. "I ain't got it in me tonight, kid. I'm outta here. See you when I see you."

Leonard stood and headed toward the door. Barry didn't follow after him, thank god.

He made it three buildings away before he had to turn into an alley and puke his guts out on the side of the road.

Fucking perfect. What a way to end the night.

~*~

The Silmarillion - Deadlier - Maedhros - PG13

[hhimring]

‘…deadlier with his left hand than he was with his right.’

The comment he had overheard was meant as praise. His people were taking it as a sign of hope.

Maedhros brought his arm slowly down, his fingers firmly grasping the hilt.

He had driven himself to regain his strength and hone his skill because mastery was required for survival and the purpose was to deal death. It could be no other. He did not flinch, but in this moment, he measured once again just how far they had come from the broken gates of Formenos.

Harm within and without.