Work Text:
Time travel screws up a lotta things. At some point, you just have to roll with the punches. In other words, if the Waverider lands within a few days of March 14th anywhere, then there, that's when Mick and Len will celebrate their anniversary.
Well. They say "celebrate." Neither of them are the mushy type. Really all they do is see who can catch the most M&M's in their mouths (long story, don't ask), toss each other one gift, and, Mick's favorite part, have anniversary sex. The second part's optional; usually Mick doesn't feel like a gift's necessary.
This year(?) though, when Len tosses him an engraved lighter encrusted with real rubies, Mick throws back a zipped up case full of drafting tools for Len's obsession with diagrams. As he flicks on his new flame, he hears Len's murmurs of "Cool" and boy oh boy does he sound like a nerd at his first Comic-Con. He'll admit, that reaction's worth fueling a very annoying habit.
They conducted their exchange in the middle of the ship's kitchen, since there's no way they're squeezing onto the Waverider's tiny cots together, ruling out the bedroom (Mick really hopes this doesn't disrupt the sex portion of celebrations). Naturally, somebody pipes up about it.
Predictably, it's Haircut. "What just happened?"
Sara teases, "Christmas come early?"
Mick's too busy with his lighter. Leave this one to Len.
"On a time-traveling ship, it can be Christmas every day," Len replies, pointedly zipping his gift shut.
They eat breakfast; Len drops his gift off in his room; they commune at the bridge. It is March 15th, 2021, and they're in Greece. At this point in time, Greece's economy has risen exponentially, and Savage has decided to take advantage. Meaning, unfortunately, Mick's gonna have to take a rain check on the anniversary sex. At least Len looks a bit pissed about it too.
Rip sends Sara, Mick, and Len to track down on of Savage's top associates in Greece. Get this: it's a woman who calls herself Aphrodite. Even Len's close to laughing about it. Although, Mick supposes with an alias like Captain Cold, he has no right to judge.
Still fuckin' hilarious.
With Sara, Mick, and Len's combined skills, Aphrodite's not hard to find. Within a scant few hours, they're tracking her to a warehouse near one of Crete's many docks. She runs an underground drug trade there, one that's made her incredibly rich. With how easy it was to find her, the three of them know they're walking right into a trap. That's the good news.
The bad news: Aphrodite gasses them. Bright side: no immediate effects. Downside: what in the fuck are the effects?
Regardless, they nab her. Mick and Len take over making her talk; Sara's not gonna be put through that and that's final. Aphrodite spills. They leave.
The effects kick in as they're heading back to the ship.
"Never seen you hold hands before," Sara comments, "this got something to do with that little gift-giving earlier?"
Mick and Len look at her funny. "What're you talking about?" asks Mick.
Sara raises an eyebrow. In response, she nods downwards.
Len and Mick look. And whaddayah know. They're holding hands.
Mick should pull away. Right the fuck now. But he doesn't.
Len's turning pink.
Oh fuck.
A pheremone drug. Awesome.
No, not awesome. Very, very far from awesome.
Even though it feels awesome. Like...everything that has to do with Len has become twice as awesome, and Mick wants to bask in that flame. No, not want. He needs.
Len doesn't seem to register his wrapping around him from behind when they return to the bridge. There's no hitch in his voice or pause in his words when Mick buries his nose in his neck, even when his hand reaches up to cradle the back of his head. Yes, cradle. Len is caressing him right now, and Mick is loving it.
What the fuck.
"Why wasn't Sara affected?" Len's asking. When did his voice sound like a bonfire? Damn.
Gideon replies, "Miss Lance has no source of large pheremone stimulant, whereas you and Mr. Rory experience a noticeable spike in each other's presence."
"Aw, you like me," teases Mick.
Then Len looks at him. His cheeks turn red, and his pupils blow wide.
"I love you," he breathes.
Rip curses as the criminals cram their lips together. Dear Captain's probably got a headache.
Doesn't matter, though. Len's kissing him. That matters. Fuck.
"Can we cure it?" Kendra asks, gawking with the rest of the team.
"The safest way is to remove their stimulant and allow the drug to run its course," Gideon says.
And. What?
They're separated. And it's fuckin' painful.
Everything's hazy and wrong without Len. Like usual, but amplified to blinding intensity.
Len's whining Mick's name, beating his fist against the wall next to that fucking laser door. Mick growls back, panting as sweat beads from his forehead. They didn't even let him keep his lighters, the fuckers; what's he supposed to do when Lenny's not next to him?!
"Remain calm," Gideon tells them, like that makes a fucking difference, "the effects will wear off in ten hours."
Ten hou—"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Mick roars at the ceiling.
"Mick," Len calls, practically keening for him, "remember...my second year at juvie?"
Mick's pretty sure it's not the time for reminiscing, but Len's voice sounds so good. "What about it?"
"You were put in solitary again. Right? And—busted yourself out."
Oh. Oh. "Yeah, baby, I remember."
Did he just call Len baby? What in the fuck?
"Then we don't gotta wait ten hours, Mick."
Damn right they don't.
Mick shoots to his feet and tears across the cell. With one fell swoop, he rips open the control panel and shoves his gloved hand inside, ripping the wires.
A bright flash of light. Mick cackles in triumph.
"Where are you, Lenny?"
"Over here!"
Mick follows his voice. After forever and a half, he finally sees another field blow out. Seconds later, Len's jumping into his arms, legs wrapping tight around his waist.
Fuck yes.
Mick slams him against the wall. They kiss, bite, and say "I love you, I love you, I love you"—but they don't have that anniversary sex yet.
No. They fucking cuddle. Just—Mick carries Len back to his cell, lies both of 'em down on the floor, and cuddles him. Len makes a happy noise, nuzzling into his chest.
"Gideon," Rip's voice comes from somewhere above them. They hold each other tighter, because fuck that, they're not getting separated again. "How long will this take to wear off when exposed to each other?"
"By my calculations, it should take forty-eight hours."
Rip huffs, "Wonderful. But I suppose it will keep them occupied while we sort through the rest of this mission. Have fun, you two." Len grabs Mick's face, yanking him into another kiss. "Right."
Footsteps hurry off to who-the-fuck-cares where.
Len sighs into their kiss. "I love you," he murmurs.
Mick grunts into his cheek, "Happy anniversary, baby."
And that's it. They kiss and cuddle until they fall asleep. Mick's so caught up in Len, he doesn't even notice the hard metal floor of the cell. Everything's fuckin' fires and rainbows.
Mick pulls Len on top of him and closes his eyes. Yeah, this is definitely the most comfortable place ever. Ever.
Shit.
Anniversary sex does eventually happen. It's rough and full of biting snarls.
Drug's worn off. Thank fuck.
They don't say I love you. They bite each other's scars instead.
Thank. Fuck.