Chapter Text
The kid had gotten off of work at the ice cream and pizza shop late, but payday was Friday and they let the employees eat however much of the pizza was leftover at the end of the day. Plus they were willing to overlook his "little juvie problem," and trust him around money, and they were too small for his dad to turn over.
As he trudged up the street, he noticed that his house's light were off and sighed, already knowing the note he would find and therefore being completely unsurprised when he got there and found it shoved between the fading white latticework bars on his door. "Your sister is with the neighbors. I'm at work. Go find yourself somewhere to stay for the week."
He sat down on the curb. At work: that meant a job, but a job that he wasn't needed on. He tried the door, even though he knew it would be locked. At the neighbors: that meant the two little old ladies next door. He checked the lights; all out as well, which meant they had already gone to bed and locked up behind them. He sighed - lockpicking skills it was then, on a house that didn't have an alarm wired directly to the police station, maybe on a garage or something, maybe one of the other neighbors. But then he might have to explain why they couldn't just call his dad; maybe something about how his dad was on a stakeout. Yeah, that would work. Now the only question was: which neighbor?
He got up off the curb and looked around for which lights were on. Santangelos - but they were nosy and kept saying how sad it was that he had lost his mother. The Clarks - but he had had to explain to them every time he was over how his mother was both Jewish and black, and they would still ask him next time. The Gregory kids hated him, despite him being around the same age as them; he had heard words from the older one like “little good-for-nothing”, from the middle one of “too good with people and too hot” (which made him laugh), and the parents “from wrong side of the tracks”. So that left Babette, where he would stand for an entire evening so she could use him as a model for her sewing, because apparently he had great proportions for that. He started down the street to her place.
A sudden metallic glimmer overhead drew his attention. Not a plane, plane did not glimmer like that and not so close. It glimmered again, and he took in more of it - definitely not a plane, and it seemed to be landing down the street, in the playground and sports park, which made sense as it was the nearest open area around.
He broke into a run after it and hid in some nearby bushes. There were people getting off it - humans, not sinuey or squat gray or green people, but humans. They appeared to be wearing the right clothes. But that glimmer - he was sure that was a spaceship. The people who got off the ship were interesting, and the kid picked up little clues about each one as he sized them up: an extremely British looking guy in a brown trenchcoat who looked like a younger Doctor Who; a hot blonde woman in what looked like a cross between hippie gear and punk wear, definitely cool; a sweet looking young black man, college kid probably; and a man who looked like a shy, soft-spoken college professor of the type one would expect to see writing notes on a chalkboard that then went into a great discovery, probably several PhDs under his belt; a guy with way too much hair gel who looked like the type of dog that stuck its nose into the butt of skunk while happily wagging its tail; and who the heck was that - the kid's eyes snapped to a bigger man, taller, gruffer, shaved, but in a way that he was doing it for functionality not just to look cool, a little weight around the middle but also strong as hell, and always on his toes - the kid guessed if anything went wrong, he'd deal with it before the others had a chance to gather they were in danger, probably with that gun he had on his side; he was packing some heat if he was carrying a thing that size around; it looked like a flamethrower.
They started walking towards the actual city of Keystone. The kid followed them. They were apparently here to pick up something, and despite the British man's worry, which he kept voicing, the pick-up went off without a hitch. The kid found the punk women and the dangerous guy's commentary to him funny when they finally got it, and the way the stuffy man threw his hands into the air in frustration afterward. He followed them back to the ship. They filed onto it. The kid made a split second decision and darted aboard: wherever this thing would take him, it was going to be awesome. He only just made it before the door closed and then hid behind a box as the others filed down the hallway. The engines whirred to life, and they were off.
The kid made his way down the hallway after he was certain they had left it. Walls like a cleaner version of the ship in Aliens - no aliens or anything that looked like aliens, thank god - but if it looked like Aliens, were there theoretically floor panels like the ones the little girl had hid under? He leaned down and checked the floor going both directions and grinned. There were in fact floor panels just like in Aliens. Now how to get into them, so he could spy on the people aboard better?
He found a floor panel that lifted, and he was in. He snuck along in the direction they had gone, under what seemed to be a large room. Big guy was sitting on a chair. The British asshole in the trenchcoat was standing over him, looking condescending and upset. The punk lady was sitting next to the big guy, eyebrow raised. The guy with the hair gel had his hand on his hips, all but posing like a superhero, looking offended. And the professor and the sweet looking young man were standing looking like they really did not want to get involved. “I have to ask why you had to steal the item next to the one we were going for?”
“Rule 101 of stealing things: you don’t just steal one thing or they know what you came for,” the guy said.
“Yes, but you took it with you, as evidenced.”
“I liked it.”
“Mr. Rory, I thought I had reformed you and…”
“Say his name in that context and we’ll find out how much of the Waverider is flammable.”
“I have to say I agree with him,” said the punk lady.
“As do I. He died a hero.”
“Haircut,” the big guy said by way of warning. The kid thought his nickname for hair gel guy was apt and was adopting it immediately.
A voice overhead that sounded exactly like an AI in a movie said, “Captain, I feel I should inform you that there is one more passenger than the team left with.”
And that was his cue to leave and find someplace safe. He crawled back under the wall so he wouldn’t be seen through the floor paneling but still have a vantage point from which to see them.
“What?” the British, trenchcoat-wearing man responded to the title of captain. The kid narrowed his eyes at the man and shrugged: of course the trenchcoat wearing man was the captain – why was he not surprised.
“Who?” the cool punk lady frowned.
“A stowaway,” informed the AI – very polite sounding.
“Well, find him,” said the captain.
The AI sounded busy, though the kid hadn’t known how not speaking could sound busy, but it did, and then came back on the line. “He appears to have hidden himself away quite effectively.” The kid had done no such thing, but either way, the ship not being able to find him granted him a few more minutes to check this thing out, maybe get himself a weapon or two so he could explain – somehow he didn’t think the future took kindly to stowaways.
“So we’re going to have to find him ourselves is what you’re saying, Gideon?” the punk lady said.
“Yes, Miss Lance.”
“Go figure that anytime the tracking device the AI has would be useful, it doesn’t work,” observed the big guy. “You want me to track him down?” he said.
“Yes, I would like you and Ms. Lance to track down our stowaway please.”
The kid swore to himself. If anyone could, it would probably be those two. He had seen a ladder down to somewhere back a little ways, and figured it was as good a place to check as any for weapons or maybe something valuable that they would have to hear him out before shooting him.
He slipped down the ladder into a room beneath, and found himself looking at a bunch of stacked things, some of which looked very valuable. He picked up one of them – and those were diamonds, honest to goodness diamonds - he put the tray with the diamonds back down. There was a photo frame - the big guy, raising an incredulous eyebrow at the camera while tinkering with something. There were several wallets – whoever had done this must have been an excellent pickpocket.
Unfortunately, there weren’t exactly many weapons. And he heard them approaching. He ducked behind a box and hoped it hid him.
The big guy –Mr. Rory, if the kid remembered correctly – came through the door first. And stopped as his face blanched. The kid stood up, having never actually seen someone look as if they had seen a ghost, but that was the nearest description of that expression. He stepped out from behind the box, as Mr. Rory seemed to be trying to decide whether to step forward or flee or… something – the kid couldn’t make out what that emotion was.
The British captain grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him towards him. For a sickening moment, it seemed like the captain wanted to hit him. The kid squawked – and god, he wished he had a better reaction to people trying to hit him – and threw his arms up in front of his face.
"Stop it," the big guy put a hand on the captain's shoulder, and pulled his hand off the kid. "Kid, you'd better come with me." The kid glanced at the captain then nodded.
The British guy took a look around. "Mr. Rory, I'm fairly sure I didn't put most of this stuff here. Is it all contraband?"
Mr. Rory grinned momentarily, and the kid knew he was going to like him. "Yeah."
“I like you,” the kid said.
Mr. Rory looked taken aback for a few second then started laughing, as if it was the funniest thing he had ever heard.
The captain looked less than amused. “I fail to see what exactly is so funny.”
The kid shrugged at the captain, shaking his head in agreement with the captain, which stranger things have happened than him agreeing with this stuck-up man. “I have no idea.”
Mr. Rory stopped laughing and gestured at the kid, “Come on. Let’s bring him up, and introduce him to the team.”
The kid frowned. “You ain’t gonna punish me or anything?”
Mr. Rory looked at the captain, who glared back then back at the kid. “Your punishment will be grunt punishment.”
The kid crossed his arms across his chest. “Which is?” He had a feeling that it would either be manual labor of a type new recruits in the army have to do or a joke, and he was hoping for the latter.
“You gotta eat the same food we do.” He turned and walked out the way he had come in.
The kid couldn’t help it. He liked the big guy, Mr. Rory. He found himself chuckling and followed the guy out of the chamber of stuff.
The captain, behind him, commented, “Great. So now we’ve got a stowaway who thinks you’re funny.”
The kid spoke up. “I am sorry, sir, but your ship blinked into and out of existence, and it’s a spaceship, mister captain, sir.”
The captain said, “I don’t suppose me saying please don’t end up like Mr. Rory will do any good.”
“Depends what he’s done.” The kid frowned and thought about it. “Actually, I’m probably gonna end up worse. I’m fifteen and I already did a stint in the can for theft.”
“Wonderful.” The captain rolled his eyes.
The kid winced, wanting to somehow make a good impression and not get kicked off the ship, but everything he said seemed to be wrong. “But I promise I won’t steal anything from your ship while I’m aboard. It just sounds like you do some thieving of your own, and I’m very good at it. So I’ll be able to earn my keep and won’t touch anything on the ship.”
“Kid, Gideon – that’s the AI – makes food appear on the replicator,” Mr. Rory replied to the line of questioning. “And we got a spare room.”
“Mr. Rory, this is still my ship, if I’m not mistaken.”
Mr. Rory turned around and got in the captain’s face. “And what do you suggest we do with him?”
The captain glared at him. “You mean to bring a child you don’t even know along with us on a very dangerous mission? We don’t even know what effect this will have on the timeline.”
“I plan to let him stay as long as he likes then return him the morning after he stowed away.”
The kid spoke up. “My dad’s out of town, probably for a week. My baby sister’s being cared for by the neighbors. Mom’s dead.”
Mr. Rory swore under his breath. “The week after he stowed away then.”
The captain stared. “Mr. Rory, may I ask why you seem so attached?”
Mr. Rory smiled. “He reminds me of someone.”
The captain stared between the two of them, the big guy with a protective look on his face, even though the kid was fairly sure they had never met, and the kid, who was well aware that he was developing a massive crush. “I give up. If this goes badly, it’s on your head.” He walked ahead.
The kid caught up to the big guy. “Mr. Rory,” Mr. Rory turned to him, and wow being next to him, he was very tall, “sir, is being compared to that person a compliment or an insult?”
“A compliment, kiddo.”
“Thanks.”
They arrived in the room that the kid had been under earlier. “Ahh, you found him?” said the punk lady.
Mr. Rory nodded at the kid.
“He’s a kid,” the punk lady said.
Mr. Rory turned to the kid. “Explain yourself, kid.”
“I saw your ship blink into and out of existence in the playground and well, it’s a space ship,” the kid explained. “Nobody will miss me for a week. I can steal stuff if you want me to. I can do drudgery. Not very good at it, but I can do it.”
“Mr. Rory appears to have already made the decision that we are taking him along,” the captain all but pouted.
“Why, out of curiosity?” asked the punk lady of Mr. Rory.
“Kid, what do we call you?” Mr. Rory asked of the kid, seeming to ignore the lady’s question.
“My last name is Snart, but I go by Lenny.”
The punk lady gaped and turned to Mr. Rory.
The captain spun on Mr. Rory. “No, no no no no no. Mr. Rory, out of the question. We’re returning him at once.”
“Aww, come on. What can it hurt if we return him in a week?”
“Ms. Lance, out of the question.”
“I like the idea,” said the one Mr. Rory had referred to as Haircut.
“That’s Snart?” said the nice looking kid.
“I don’t believe it,” said the college professor.
“So you guys already know me or something?” said the kid.
“Yeah, you’re a hero in the future,” Mr. Rory said.
“Mr. Rory, are you entirely sure…?” started the professor.
The kid looked around at all the expressions: the captain’s ticked off one, the punk lady’s – Ms. Lance –, the kid’s, the professor’s, Haircut’s, and Mr. Rory’s one which involved arms across chest glaring out at everyone as though daring them to say anything.
“You’re pulling my leg,” he concluded. “There ain’t no way I’m gonna be a hero.”
Mr. Rory started, “This is a timeship. We know.”
The kid crossed his arms across his chest, mirroring Mr. Rory’s stance. “Yeah, I can tell a crock of bull when I hear it, Mr. Rory.”
Ms. Lance chuckled. The kid beamed at her. “See? Pretty Punk Lady agrees.” The professor and the nice looking kid were struggling to hide smirks.
Mr. Rory took a step forward. The kid took a step back at the sudden seriousness on his face. Mr. Rory stopped and sighed. “Kid,” he said, voice full of softness. Lenny took a step forward. Mr. Rory put a hand on Lenny’s shoulder. “Your kid sister, she’s going to be a professional figure skater.”
“Olympics?” the kid brightened.
Mr. Rory shook his head. “Not Olympics. But pro.”
The kid grinned. “I knew she had it in her. Right now though, she’s still falling down in ice skates. Can’t quite figure out the boots yet.”
Ms. Lance made a noise that sounded like an aww. Lenny turned to raise an eyebrow at her, and she stopped, though her eyes kept dancing in delight. He smiled at her.
“So can I stay?”
Ms. Lance, Mr. Rory, and Haircut nodded. Professor and the nice kid did not, but smiled. The captain crossed his arms across his chest and rolled his eyes.
“Fine, but if this affects the timeline at all...”
“Your precious timeline can shove it, Captain,” Mr. Rory said. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you buckled in.”
“You still got seatbelts?” Lenny frowned then looked Mr. Rory up and down. “You wear a seatbelt?”
“Yes, and you had better wear one,” Rip said, “You won’t like the effects if you don’t.”
Mr. Rory sat and patted the seat next to him. The kid sat, and Mr. Rory indicated how to fasten oneself in. Lenny did, wiggling his feet just a little in a way that got everyone who noticed it to hide smiles.
Then, he was clinging on for dear life and feeling sicker than he had ever felt, even while hungover after his father’s friends had decided it would be fun to get him drunk.