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Tucker didn't mean to become infamous. He really, really didn't.
He would like it on record, actually, that being infamous was the exact opposite of what Tucker wanted.
He would also like the jury to note that his people were not built for the cold. His people, in fact, were built for the direct opposite of the cold--for sand and heat.
He wasn't even supposed to be there. He was supposed to be at home, in Amity, with his best friends playing DOOM.
He was supposed to be safely at home, none the wiser to his part in whatever the hell is going on around him in some underground lab somewhere on the outskirts of Central City.
But Sam had to make him face his new criminal life, and so here he is. Facing it.
From where he's handcuffed to a radiator (why is there a radiator in a lab???) next to some guy named Cisco, Tucker fumes.
He shouldn't have told Sam.
He makes a note to write a scathing email to her if he survives this.
Sam's Room, Six Days Prior
"So let me get this straight." Sam breathes in a deep, I'm running out of patience so I'm trying to find it and it's not working lungful of air. "While I was gone, dragged unwillingly to a gala in Gotham you--" she gestures to Danny, "crashed into Superman, got involved in a JL fight, and somehow got a JL communicator out of it."
"That's the gist, yeah." Danny scratches his head, looking down on the floor. He and Tucker are kneeling on the carpet of Sam's bedroom, whilst the owner of said room paces back and forth around it. "I disabled the tracker before I got home, though!"
Danny shakily grins, hopeful that the scolding will stop. It doesn't. It just makes Sam glare at him until he looks appropriately cowed.
"And you." The force of Sam's heated irritation makes Tucker wince, "you went on a family trip to Central City for four days and somehow came back working remote for Captain Cold?"
"In my defense," Tucker gulps, putting a finger up, "He introduced himself as Leonard Snart. Leonard Snart. That's not even remotely a villain name."
"You're working IT for a criminal organization, Tucker." Sam grits out, crossing her arms at him. "Tucker Foley isn't exactly a villain name either but here we are."
"I thought he was a comic book writer!" Tucker throws his hands up, defensive.
"Did the weapons schematics not tip you off?" Danny asks, genuinely confused.
"You clearly have not seen what I do for my DnD sessions." Tucker grumbles, "world building is an art."
Sam pinches her brow, taking big exaggerated breaths in and out in a clear attempt to calm herself down.
"I'm not the one working for a notorious rogue halfway across the country, Tucker."
"Again, in my defense, I'm less of an IT guy and more of an internet guru." Tucker thinks on that for a moment. "Or, well, I started as an internet guru, and then the IT stuff came up later."
"You get paid." Danny points out, then, upon having a second thought, "…You do get paid, right?"
"Now I do," Tucker nods, "A lot, too."
"In stolen goods." Sam stresses.
"That's not true!" Tucker argues, "I'm payrolled with properly laundered money!"
"Because that's so much better!" Sam huffs, stomping over to her bed and plopping herself onto it criss-cross-applesauce.
Danny and Tucker watch, turning themselves to face her, as she takes a breath to center herself. When she opens her eyes, she addresses Danny first.
"You, we'll get to later. You haven't been involved on the wrong side of the fucking law." Sam cuts her gaze to Tucker. "You. Start from the beginning."
Tucker looks between his two best friends, sweating, and starts from the beginning.
Three Weeks Prior to the Prior
"No, Lisa," a deep, agitated voice says, "I don't know what tumbler dot com is. It's not a website for thermoses?"
Tucker's ears perk, and he slants a glance towards the source. There's a man, oddly dressed in thick clothes in contrast to what nice sunny weather demands: a fur-lined hooded snow jacket, unzipped, over what looks like a gray thermal and bulky work pants that cover what looks like thick work boots, or maybe snow shoes.
It makes him stand out in the middle of Central City, where Tucker is meandering around on his own. Both he and the man are standing outside a cafe, where Tucker had gotten a pumpkin spice latte to go. The man has a croissant in one hand, and a phone in the other held up to his ear.
"Why do I need wattpad?" the man continues after a moment, munching on his croissant. "Fanfiction of what? What the hell is RPF?"
The person on the other side of the phone begins explaining, presumably, and Tucker kind of squirms. He's pretty sure he's witnessing someone learning about the wonders of AO3 in real time. This is monumental.
This is life-changing, and the guy doesn't even know it.
"Flash and who?" A pause. "That's ridiculous, Batman is way too old for the Flash." Another pause. "No, I wouldn't--what? Green Arrow wishes."
Tucker holds back a scream. He'd thought maybe Hockey RPF, considering the current demographic of the internet, but it's even better. This Lisa character has taste. Lisa is reading Superhero RPF.
"No, I do not support Captain Cold slash Flash, whatever the hell that means." The man huffs, but can't seem to help himself as he adds. "But it's better and more realistic than any of the other options you've just said to me."
Tucker checks his phone in a desperate attempt to keep himself quiet. His phone tells him only 10 minutes have passed since his mom said to be back for dinner at six thirty. His phone also tells him it is currently 11:22 AM.
"Well you tell those people to stop writing about Flash and all these apparently horny superheroes!" The man hisses after his phone goes black. He presses the unlock button. The clock tells him it is now 11:23 AM.
"Send me the website. Clearly these people are delusional." The man grumbles. "If I have to send them complaints myself, so be it. What?"
The man's phone makes a concerning amount of notification noises. He pulls the phone away, scanning and scrolling through what looks like a substantial amount of text in the form of screenshots. Tucker recognizes the signature red bar at the top.
"AO3?" The man mutters to himself. "Why is the Captain Cold/Flash section so small?"
This might be how Tucker dies.
"Lisa. Lisa." The man brings the phone back up. "Lisa, stop laughing, tell me how to make an account! This can't stand! Stop laughing and help me-"
Tucker takes a fortifying sip of his PSL. It's cold. He takes another sip, spitefully.
The man makes another offended noise, pulling the phone away only to blurt to himself (and Tucker) "She hung up on me. What the fuck."
Tucker watches as the man visibly collects himself. It takes him a couple minutes, but then Tucker sees him try to figure out where the screenshots are being taken from, from the way he keeps trying to zoom into the URL bar, but is clearly failing. Lisa, apparently, did not send him anything helpful.
Tucker gives up.
"Hey, man." Tucker slides a little closer, trying to gauge if this man will beat him up or not. "Uh. Not to eavesdrop or anything, but uh, if you're looking for AO3 the website is archiveofourown.org. I could help you sign up, if you need it?"
The man looks at Tucker, looks at his phone. Tucker can almost see the thoughts loading.
The man slumps. "Please. My sister likes to drive me mad, and she'll definitely hold this over my head until the day I die."
So Tucker helps him sign up, explains the waiting period before it's official, and teaches the man how to fully utilize the search engine to narrow down the scope of what he's looking for. He casually mentions that he also likes Hero/Villain ships, especially when the Villain's alignment is set closer to 'morally ambiguous' rather than 'pure evil.'
Leonard Snart, all told, spends over 3 hours with Tucker walking around Central City and discussing various ships and their relative implausibilities.
Tucker ends up early to dinner, which is rare for him, with a new email registered in his PDA.
Leonard Snart, it turns out, is a really fun pen-pal, and eventually, a pretty generous boss.
And then two weeks and five days later, Tucker finds out that Leonard Snart is Captain Cold.
Two weeks and six days later, Tucker finds out he's accidentally made a name for himself in the Central City Underbelly.
Which brings Tucker to Sam's room, sitting on the floor next to Danny, questioning every decision in his life.
Back to Sam's Room, Six Days Prior.
Sam rubs her temples.
"You're telling me Captain Cold has been reading RPF fic?" Danny says in the wake of Tucker's recollection. "And that he ships himself with the Flash?"
"I'm telling you he writes it, too." Tucker nods, helpless. "And he goes on fics that ship Flash with other heroes and villains and writes really angry reviews."
Sam flops back onto the bed with a grunt. She grabs her blanket and rolls over into a little burrito with a groan. She has given up on them.
"I've been telling him that that's rude," Tucker continues, nervous. "That he should just filter those out so he doesn't see them, 'cause I'm totally all about Ship and Let Ship, y'know?"
"I do." Danny bobs his head very seriously. "I do know, for sure."
"And then he sent me this fic that like. Involved an elaborate robbery, and it had some hardcore descriptions on how the weapons worked, yeah?" Tucker fiddles with his PDA, flips it over and over again. "And so we got to talking, and Leonard starts sending me schematics, thinking the weapon's physics through, that kind of thing. It just kept building."
"Uh huh." Danny encourages as Sam rolls into an even tighter ball on the bed. "Naturally."
"And so I work it out with him. And then he sends me the schematics for a high tech generator, and we get to talking about the strong and weak points, theoreticals." Tucker's voice wobbles.
There's a distant ding coming from the JL communicator. Danny ignores it. "Theoreticals."
"…And then I find there's a couple of articles about sudden power outages." Tucker's voice is small. "I checked. Same generator. A bank was robbed in the second outage."
The communicator dings again. Danny ignores it again. He puts a hand on Tucker's knee.
"…And then the next day, my mom comes stomping into my room asking about a large amount of money being deposited in the checking account she opened for me in my name."
A long silence this time.
And then Sam unravels herself. "I can't believe this. This is so unfair. I go to Gotham and not a single fucking rogue attack, not even a petty mugging, but Danny gets involved with the JL and Tucker becomes a fucking crime lord?"
"Crime lord is a stretch." Tucker mumbles.
"You went from there was only one bed," Danny interjects, "and ended up in a heist movie."
Tucker would laugh, if it weren't simultaneously so true and so wrong at the same time. There are at least 20 emails between him and Leonard about the merits of such a trope being used in real life, but only about four regarding the stupid generators.
He might cry, instead.
"You're quitting." Sam huffs.
"I am." Tucker says, because what else would he say? Of course he's fucking quitting. He didn't even sign up for the job in the first place. He was hired against his will. Tipped like a Stripper when he was only a nicely dressed patron.
"You're going to Central City and you're telling him that you are quitting." Sam reiterates, pointing at him with a sharp stiletto nail. He knows what those are now, because Lisa had taken to emailing him things too, mostly about her day and how obsessed and dumb her brother is.
"What? Why?" Tucker whines, high pitched and frankly pathetic. "Can't I just email him and block him?"
"I doubt that will stop him." Danny hums, pursing his lips. "He might just email you with a different email."
"And you think I stand a chance talking to him one on one?!" Tucker squeaks. "I'm not gonna spend my hard earned money on a flight all the way to Central City just to quit and possibly die at the hands of Captain Cold!"
The communicator dings for a third time. Sam throws a pillow at Danny. He checks it.
"I can fly you there." Danny offers, once he's read whatever's been sent. He wiggles the communicator. "Superman is asking for help nearby in a place called Smallville, in Kansas."
"Plus I doubt he's going to kill you." Sam waves Tucker's responding blubbering away. "He's back to just committing grand larceny, isn't he? Can't woo a hero without dialing back the murder."
Tucker puts his face in his hands.
Back to the Lab, in the Now
"So you're telling me you're not actually a hostage?" Cisco asks Tucker. They're thankfully connected to the radiator with two separate handcuffs on opposite ends so they both have enough room to lean back against the wall and chat. "That this isn't some grand betrayal within a criminal organization that caused Cold to backslide into possibly murderous urges?"
"Nope." Tucker shakes his head, trying and failing not to feel like he's been in a smoothie blender as cold frost whips around him. "I'm technically here to quit, but then Lisa got involved. My last job was pretending to be a hostage so that Flash would show up and then I would be on my way."
On the other side of the giant lab, beakers containing what Tucker thinks are dangerous chemicals are being broken and frozen in quick succession. There is a lot of yelling. Leonard is trying to say something, but the whirlwind from Flash running drowns him out.
"Well. We showed up." Cisco gestures to the chaos around them, seeming resigned now that he gets the bigger picture. "This is about his huge crush on the Flash, isn't it?"
"Totally." Tucker nods vigorously. "Is it always like this?"
"Kind of." Cisco squints as Flash seems to try and talk Leonard down from a life of crime. Leonard is trying to tell him this isn't about the crime, but Flash isn't having it. "We think Flash has a crush on Captain Cold too."
"If it's mutual why…?" Tucker is baffled, now that he's had time to realize his life is not, in fact, in danger all he's feeling is annoyed.
"Flash has uh. Mixed feelings about dating a criminal." Cisco twirls a finger. "Hero, and all that."
"Batman has definitely fucked Catwoman." Tucker argues. "From what I've seen and heard on the forums, there's even a high possibility he's fucked Two Face."
"That's what I've been saying!" Cisco beams, and Tucker beams back. It's nice to have a like-minded friend. "Besides, Capt's kind of retired now. He's been traveling with the Legends and Flash has been kind of sad and lonely about it."
"The Legends?" Tucker tilts his head. There's another crash, but he and Cisco ignore it.
"Long story." Cisco shakes his head. "Sorry that Caitlyn handcuffed you, by the way. You've kind of made an evil name for yourself."
"It's okay, thinking back on it, I kind of deserve it. I did cause at least two major power outages and like. Helped Lisa rob a bank. Which, even though it was an accident, I'm really sorry about." Tucker shrugs, sheepishly. "Also, super sorry that Lisa handcuffed you right back."
Cisco begins to say something, but snaps his mouth shut. Tucker blinks, and realizes the same thing Cisco has probably just realized: The lab is eerily silent. They both turn to look.
In the middle of the broken down lab, Captain Cold and The Flash are kissing passionately enough that it makes Tucker's ears burn red. For some reason, there is a single bed five feet away that seems untouched by the chaos. That makes Tucker's ears burn even redder.
After what feels like at least five minutes of straight up making out, Cisco seems to have had enough.
"HEY, LOVEBIRDS! IF YOU'RE JUST GONNA GET FREAKY CAN YOU LET ME AND MY GOOD FRIEND HERE GO HOME?!"