Work Text:
They had ended up on a sort of round tour of Sweden, of all countries, and to say that Mick was less than happy about it was an understatement. It was cold, dark, and so far not really worth it - except for how there were no superheroes – they hadn't even stolen anything, mostly because the person with the diamonds Len had planned to steal from, had unexpectedly taken a trip up north, taking the diamonds with them.
At the end of the weekend, Mick and Len found themselves on a bus leaving a town with a completely unpronounceable name, and heading towards a city with an unfamiliar, but not quite as odd, name.
“I can't believe you dragged me to a hotel made of ice,” Mick mick muttered. He thought about it for a second. “Oh, no, wait. I can totally believe it.” He paused before muttering, “Captain Cold,” under his breath.
“Pure coincidence,” Len said, burrowed down in his parka and voice inflection less so Mick couldn't tell if he was lying or not. Mick suspected he was lying, but then he had known Len long enough to know that almost everything Len said even if wasn't a lie, would have the truth twisted to a greater or lesser degree. “We're just following the diamonds.”
“I don't see why we couldn't grab them while we were there,” Mick said.
“Because our only get away was a bus ride,” Len said. “I'm not taking the bus while carrying diamonds worth millions.”
Mick had to nod in agreement, Len did have a point.
“The guy we're following though has a car, he'll be in,” Mick paused. “Where are we going again?”
“Kiruna.”
Perfect pronounciation. Mick gave Len a suspicious look. They'd been speaking English with everyone they'd met the whole weekend they'd spent at the hotel – Len had seemed perfectly at home, lounging against various ice sculptures like he belonged there – but there had been times, when Mick suspected that Len might actually know a bit of Swedish. It would make sense, why else would he even suggest they leave Central, leave the US, to come here just for some diamonds, in the first place.
“He'll be on a plane before we even get there,” Mick said.
“We know where he's going,” Len said with a shrug. They did know, because Len had asked the man while they were in the sauna. Len had been wearing a bathrobe the whole time despitethe heat, because he was weird like that. Meanwhile he had handed Mick the smallest towel Mick had ever seen in his life – it had barely wrapped around his hips, and only went down just enough to protect his modesty, not that Mick was particularly modest, but he wasn't in the habit of sitting around in a hot room surrounded by strangers stark naked – saying there was only one bathrobe, because Len was an asshole.
After a bus ride that lasted for what felt like an eternity – which had started when it was dark outside, and ended when it was dark outside. Mick missed the sun, Len might actually like the darkness and snow, but Mick had always been a fan of warm and sunny days – they made it to the airport, and onto the last flight going to Umeå.
They made it to the next airport, where they had to wait for their connecting flight to Stockholm. All the travelling, sitting still and doing nothing was starting to get to Mick. He felt restless, annoyed, frustrated, there was an itch in his head he couldn't scratch and it was only getting worse and worse. He could do sit and wait, he could handle all the time Len spent on planning heists without problem. Mostly because he trusted Len's plans, trusted that because they were so meticulously worked out, nothing would go wrong. Well, most of the time nothing went wrong, they'd been going wrong a bit more ever since The Flash, and that time with the fire, long before that scarlet speedster showed up.
He sighed, hand twitching, and he wished he had his lighter. This plan had gone wrong too, mostly because they had heard nothing about the weekend trip to the icehotel, and who brought their diamonds with them when they're going away like that?
Mick frowned, opened his mouth to ask Len about all of this. As usual he had been happy knowing only the bare details about the plan, but suddenly he felt like maybe he needed to know more, or at least know whatever back-up plan Len was presumably formulating as they were making their way south again. Before he could say anything, a voice spoke through the PA sytem.
“Let's go,” Len said. Mick frowned, at the same time as the announcer switched to giving the announcement in English.
Back in Stockholm they caught a train going to a city called Gävle. Again, Len managed to pronounce it, Mick was frowning at the name on the ticket, before he put it away. He had grabbed a newspaper which had been sticking out of an open bag at the train station, because there had been a picture that caught his eye. He couldn't read the text, but the picture was of what looked like a massive goat made of straw. Mick's hand twitched.
“Here,” Mick handed the paper to Len, who gave him a confused look.
“What am I gonna do with this?”
“It's a paper Len,” Mick said. “I know, you know what to do with it.”
“It's in Swedish.”
Mick gave him a long look, which Len met with a defiant look of his own. They had a silent argument for a few moments, which to any onlookers probably just looked like they were staring into each other's eyes really intensely.
Finally Len, smirked, but in a way that made Mick think he was actually proud Mick had figured it out. Mick frowned again, but Len turned away, opened the paper and started reading.
“Why haven't you ever told me you know Swedish,” Mick asked, Len just hushed him, seemingly deeply invested in reading whatever article he had found. Mick smiled, and hoped he didn't look too fond.
Arriving at the station, it was rather late, not that he had seen the sun at any point lately so it was just his watch – or rather Len's watch since Mick wasn't wearing one, and he had to grab Len's wrist to check the time – telling him it was late. He missed the amused look on Len's face when Mick had grabbed Len's arm, as well as didn't ponder the fact that Len usually was stand offish and disliked anyone touching him, except for his sister, and that had anyone else done what Mick just did, they'd probably lose their hand for it.
Mick had assumed they were going to a hotel, but since he didn't understand what Len told the taxi driver – what was a - 'gävlebock' anyway? - he didn't know, where they were when they got out of the cab. Mick stood on the side walk, looking around himself in slight confusion. There was snow everywhere, though not quite as much as up north. He was really tired of the snow, and while not worried, getting slightly concerned that Len would want to move here.
“Where are we?” Mick asked.
“I've got a surprise for you,” Len said, and started walking. Mick shrugged and followed.
Soon enough they stopped in front of the giant straw goat Mick had seen a picture of. Mick frowned and opened his mouth but before he could say anything Len started talking.
“Apparently, they build one every year for Christmas,” Len said. “It's supposed to keep standing at least until after Christmas too, but people have a tendency to destroy it,” he pauses. “Apparently burning it is very popular.”
Mick looked from the goat to Len.
“Burning it?” Mick asked, and he could feel a small thrill going through his whole body. Hands twitching slightly.
“Mhm,” Len said. “They've coated it in something to make it inflammable, but I'm sure you can prove them wrong.”
Mick grinned.
“Oh, I'll prove them wrong alright.”
It took a little while, Mick did have to reassemble the heat gun after all - bringing it assembled onto a plane wasn't an option – but soon enough, he could step bak and watch the flames slowly eat their way up the goats four legs. Mick watched the fire, his mind blank and the restless jittery feeling settling down. The air was filled with the smell of smoke and burning straw and Mick inhaled deep. At the same time as Len gently and slowly pulled at the back of Mick's coat, getting him to walk backwards. He couldn't stop watching though, the way the fire flickered.
Stopping some distance away, Len came up side by side with Mick. Standing so close their hands brushed together.
“Not such a waste of time after all, right?” Len asked. Mick, still a bit distracted by the fire, almost said yes right away, but then frowned. Surely this was a terrible waste of time for Len? This whole trip had been nothing but a waste of time considering Len's usual plans.
“Did you bring me on a vacation?” Mick asked.
He thought about the hotel, about too small towels, Len draping himself against every surface showing himself off. Len telling him that the hotel had been so fully booked they'd ended up sharing not only a room, but a bed.
The hotel had been for Len though, perhaps he'd always wanted to go there, it was hard to tell with Len. He could be weird about these things. After thirty years they were close, sometimes too close as when they did have a falling out it was always ugly. But Len was more open about things with Mick, telling him some secrets, but keeping other things hidden. Things that didn't need to be kept a secret - It had been Len's sister who, only a month earlier, came to Mick and told him that Len had a mild allergy towards tomatoes, and could Mick maybe stop using them whenever he cooked. When Mick had asked why Len never said anything, Lisa had muttered something about Len being an idiot, and not wanting to reveal a weakness.
“Maybe,” Len said.
“Are there any diamonds?” Mick asked. Len gave him a look like he thought Mick had been the one to say something completely crazy. When obviously the only crazy person here, was Len for organizing a vacation without actually mentioning this to Mick.
“Of course there are diamonds,” Len said. But at that moment the goat was so consumed with fire Mick had to look over there again. Momentarily getting lost in the sheer beauty in front of him. In the distance there were sirens.
“They are still in Stockholm,” Len said, and then, still in a calm voice. “We should probably leave soon.”
Mick reluctantly tore his eyes away from the goat and ended up looking at Len instead. The flames illuminating his face in a way that had Mick licking his lips. Nothing could really rival fire in Mick's mind, but Len was a close second in beauty.
“Thank you,” Mick said.
“Just making sure you'll be focused for the heist tomorrow,” Len said. Mick knew it was a lie, and smiled back before leaning in and pressing a kiss to Len's lips. Len sighed into the kiss, and Mick wrapped his arms around him, pulling him in tight.
The fire continued to crackle in the background, the only thing ruining the kiss slightly were the sirens.
Mick pulled away reluctantly, and glanced at the fire agai. Len took his hand and started to pull him away.
“We need to leave,” he said.
Mick moved, slowly. He kept glancing over his shoulder to catch glimpses of the fire, until they had to start running.
Much later, lying in a bed with rumpled sheets, sweaty, and sated, the TV on in the background on mute was showing footage of the burning goat.
“We should do this again,” Mick said.
“What?” Len asked, a little bit breathless and when Mick looke over at him he was delightfully flushed and disheveled – it was a good look on him – Mick thought.
“Burn the goat,” Mick said. “Make it a yearly tradition.”
“Thought you meant we should fuck again,” Len said. Mick licked his lips, not taking his eyes off of Len.
“I was thinking of making that a bit more regular than once a year.”
“I can agree to that.”
“So, you gonna tell me when you learned Swedish?” Mick asked, changing the subject.
“Maybe, later,” Len said, smirking.
Mick pulled him into a kiss.