#yes I stole the morning newspaper bit from a post somewhere

[zerosocialskillz]

Looking at the ULTRAKILL tag like it’s my morning newspaper

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Could you write a fic where Tony and Bucky have been through so much in getting and staying together (maybe after CW?) that they just know they're each other's one and only and forever after. So when everyone (Avengers/civilians/media) doubts them and ridicules their relationship or when 'incriminating' photos or other proof of cheating or betrayal is brought up by well-meaning friends or malicious a-holes to break them up, they shrug and say 'I trust him, he would never-', pretty please?

Sampoured himself a glass of juice and took it into the wide commonarea. He really had to stop letting Steve goad him into doing shitthat was about four levels over his actual capabilities. All hewanted now was to flop on the big couch and whine about how much hiscalves hurt.

Barneswas already there, watching some celebrity gossip show, of allthings. Sam blinked in confusion, then remembered that Stark had goneoff to Tokyo on a business trip yesterday, and Barnes hadn’t beenable to go along, because his legal status in Tokyo was still inquestion. Bucky-boo was probably hoping for a clip about his guy.

Theshow didn’t disappoint – not long after Sam collapsed onto thecouch with a grunt of greeting, it flipped to a segment on Tony’sarrival in Tokyo. The host chattered inanely over a video montage.There was Stark being greeted as he got off the plane, signingautographs in the airport, a cute shot of him posing with a kid in anIron Man costume.

Barnessighed soulfully and Sam glanced back at the TV to see Stark walkingalong a red carpet toward some event, looking even sharper thanusual. Next to Stark was a Japanese business mogul at his side with apretty girl on his arm. Damn, why did rich old guys get all thepretty ones? Barnes, of course, only had eyes for Stark.

“Youknow if you told him how much you liked it, he’d probably wear thetux for you at home,” Sam pointed out.

“It’sspecial ‘cause I don’t get to see it much,” Barnes said, whichwas a fair point.

Samwished the show host would shut up; her voice was grating. Oh, thepretty girl was the business guy’s daughter. That was a bit easierto swallow. Sam wondered if Stark was going into business with theguy, whether he could hook Sam up with an introduction. Sam closedhis eyes and stretched his aching calves again and visualized Rogersrunning into a brick wall or something else nearly as hard as hishead.

He’dprobably just go right through it. Parachutes and doors were conceptshe was still working on, apparently.

Barnes’breath hitched and Sam cracked one eye. Then he sat up, fast, becausethe TV was showing Stark dancing with the daughter. Closely. Theywere definitely not leaving any room for Jesus in there, holy shit.The girl said something, and Stark threw his head back and laughed.

Barnesmade another soft, indeterminate noise. Shit shit shit.

(Mobile readers, ‘ware the readmore!)

“Barnes,hey,” Sam tried. “It’s, I’m sure it’s not anything.” Hewasn’t sure of any such thing, actually, but Sam wasn’t gonna beable to restrain the Winter Soldier by himself, so he was stalling.“You okay, man?”

Barnesput his hands over his mouth. “Maybe.” He sounded a littleshaken. “It’s just, he’s…”

“Hey,I know, man, it’s not cool. But it doesn’t necessarily meananything.You know his rep.”

Barneswasn’t listening. “Those’re the steps we were practicingtogether, for the charity thing next month,” he murmured.

Samwinced. Jesus, Stark…

Barnessniffled, and Sam groaned inwardly. How the hell was he the onegetting stuck taking care of a heartbroken assassin? “C’mon,don’t jump to conclusions, you’ll work it out,” Sam tried.

Butthen Barnes dropped his hands, and he was… smiling?

Teary.But smiling.

“Thehell,” Sam wondered.

Barnesflashed him a grin. “He’s sayin’ hi,” he told Sam. “KnewI’d be watching, wanted me to know he was thinkin’ of me.”

Samglanced back at the TV. “Buck, I hate to say it, but are you sure?”

“SureI’m sure,” Bucky said. “You know how much we went through toget where we are? No way is he throwin’ me over for a fling.” Theshow switched to someone else and Bucky flicked it off, then fishedhis phone out of a pocket and dialed. “Hey, baby, I’m notinterrupting anything, am I? …Nah, I just saw the segment onStarshineandcouldn’t resist. That was the sweetest– Oh yeah? Hang on, lemmejust go somewhere a little more private.” Barnes winked at Sam andstrode for the elevator, still talking.

“Mornin’,gorgeous,” said Tony. Bucky looked up from his tablet and tippedhis head back so that Tony could lean in for a kiss on the way to thecoffee. “Good run?”

Buckysnorted and went back to scrolling through the news. “No suchthing,” he said, like he always did. “I only go ‘cause it’smarginally less awful than enduring Steve’s sad puppy face.”

Tonygrinned as he sat down and stole the toast from Bucky’s plate, justlike he did every morning. Bucky only bothered with a token defenseand protest. (Bucky actually made the toast, took one bite out of it,and then left the rest for Tony every morning just so Tony would eatsomething.Tony probably knew that, but as long as they didn’t mention it,then it still worked.) “I’d think you’d be immune to Steve’sface by now.”

“Thereis no immunity to that,” Bucky said reasonably. “Anyway, it nevergets old watching him challenge Sam to contests that Sam knows damnwellhecan’t win.”

Tonysnickered and brushed crumbs off his fingers. “What was it thistime?”

“Hurdles,”Bucky said. He scrolled a little further, to reveal a lurid headline.“Oh, look, you’re cheating on me again.”

“What?”Tony leaned into Bucky’s side, reading. “Oh dear, I’ve beenfound out.”

“Indeedyou have, you hussy.” Bucky delivered it deadpan and off-rhythm,like a second-grader delivering memorized lines in a school play.

“Butmy love for– Wait, who is it? I forgot to check.” Tony scrolleddown to check the article. “Oh, right. My love for Natasha cannotbe denied. An ocean to our pond.”

“Don’tworry,” Natasha told Bucky with a smirk as she came into thekitchen. “You can have him back now; I was only in it for themoney.”

Buckyfelt the smile tugging at his lips. “You betrayer,” he toldNatasha.

“That’sSultanVile Betrayertoyou,” Natasha said. “Any coffee left?”

“Mr.Stark! Mr. Stark!”

Tonyglanced up and rolled his eyes. Honestly, reporters.It was eight in the morning and the Avengers had just come off asix-hour-long battle with a pod of honest-to-god giant squids off thecoast. They were all exhausted, bruised and bloody, and covered inslime, seaweed, and other things better not considered too closely.Godforbidtheybe allowed to go back to the Tower and take showers before having toput on their public relations hats.

Still,maintaining the goodwill of the press was part of the job, so Tonyplastered on his public face and directed a well-practiced smirk intothe camera behind the woman’s shoulder. “Yes, hi, hello. There’llbe the usual post-incident news conference at the Tower; you’llwant to contact our PR office for–”

“Yessir, Mr. Stark, and our usual correspondent is already on it, but inthe meantime, since you were so valiantly defending us when themorning editions rolled out, I wanted to get your reaction to this.”She held up a newspaper – Jesus, they still madethose?– with a photo covering most of the top half.

Tonystared at the photo for several long seconds, then swiveled his headto look over at his boyfriend. “Tell me this is doctored,” hedemanded.

Buckyglanced at the paper, then looked away guiltily. “Baby–”

“Don’tyou ‘baby’ me!” Tony snapped. “How could you?”

“Comeon, Tony, it’s not that big a deal,” Bucky pleaded.

“Notthat big a deal? Dammit, you promised Icouldbe the one to let the paps catch me kissing Clint!”

Buckysighed and put his hands on Tony’s shoulders, pulling him away fromthe reporter. He glared at the camera and said quietly, “Look, theopportunity was there, and I jumped. I’m sorry. What if I let yoube the one to imply it’s a three-way, instead?”

Tonypouted at him. “Can I do it in today’s press conference?”

Bucky’sshoulders slumped. “I guess, since I didjumpthe gun on you already. Just make sure you let Clint know we’reupping the timetable.”

Tonybeamed. This was going to be epic.“You’re the best.”

“Whend’you reckon they’ll stop trying to make us have jealous fits andbreak up?”

“It’sthe press,” Tony said. “So approximately never. But most of thesemi-respectable gossip rags are starting to figure out that we’retrolling them, so pretty soon we’ll be down to just the bottomfeeders, and those are really just funny. I’m holding out for oneof having a secret affair with Bat Boy.”

“God,I love you.”

“Iknow.” Tony leaned in for a kiss, heedless of the slime.

~ @everyworldneedslove

[robininthelabyrinth]

Summer in the City - 4 (Flashwave)

Fic: Summer in the City - Chapter 4 (AO3 Link) Fandom: The Flash Pairing: Mick Rory/Barry Allen

Summary: Barry Allen is a good CSI, but this whole stupid Heatwave serial killer thing is just killing him.

Or, you know, people around him.

Luckily for him, he’s always got Mick to complain to…

—————————————————————————————————

"No surprise, absolutely nothing from Palmer Tech other than the small sample of the alloy he gave us," Barry tells Joe. "Industrial strength cleaner is a thing to be feared by us all."

Joe nods, looking unsurprised. He knows the drill. "So, nothing then?"

"Well," Barry says reluctantly. "There is one thing."

Ray was super nice, and Barry can't possibly imagine what he might have to do with a serial killer or whatever weird thing is going on here in regards to these thefts, but he feels he has to mention any oddities. It's his job. Joe's job is figuring out how all those oddities came together in a way that made sense.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Barry says. "I found absolutely nothing."

"You just said that," Joe points out.

"No," Barry says patiently. "Absolutely nothing."

Joe pauses. "I thought you said that was because of the cleaner?"

"It is," Barry says. "But there's finding nothing relevant or useful, and then there's finding nothing at all."

"Wait, you found nothing at all?" Julian says, looking up from where he's sitting on his side of the room. "In a working lab? During mid-morning? Impossible."

Barry points at him. "Exactly. I mean, unless the lab was scrubbed shortly before we arrived. Which, uh, they would probably have had time to do, if they wanted to."

Joe frowns. "You think they were hiding something?"

"I mean, yes and no?" Barry replies, shrugging helplessly when Joe glares at him. "Okay, let me rephrase. Yes, I think they were hiding something. No, I don't think it's really relevant. I mean, I don't really think they were hiding Heatwave in the alleyway out back or anything like that. It's probably nothing more than some run-of-the-mill labwork paranoia that someone's going to steal their work, or maybe some scientists they hired have a bad history with law enforcement, or something like that." He pauses. "Or, well, this is Central..."

He arches his eyebrows meaningfully. Joe nods thoughtfully.

"What does that mean?" Julian asks with a frown. He's good at his job, but he's not from Central; he hates it when everyone else just makes a reference to the city and share knowing nods like Barry and Joe were just doing.

Naturally, Barry makes a point of doing it as often as possible.

"Something they're working on for a Family," Joe clarifies. "Labs can process everything from drugs to explosives, and it's an open secret that running any type of successful business in Central - at least, running that business long enough that you want to keep it being successful - involves having an open mind in regards to the Families, if you get me."

"Though drugs have gone down since Snart came around," Barry comments, then flinches back when Julian and Joe both glare. "What? It's true! Palmer Tech could have a deal with the Rogues instead of a regular Family."

"I don't want to know what a guy who made himself the leader of a metahuman army wants with a lab, Bear, I really don't," Joe says.

"More parts for that cold gun of his, no doubt," Julian says.

"But the labs weren't working on cold, they were working on heat," Barry points out.

"Still, it's temperature related. Maybe Snart is thinking of switching it up."

"Seems like a stretch," Joe says doubtfully. "That bastard's pretty committed to his theme. Just last week he had snowflake-decorated hoodies delivered to the local children's hospital with a note saying 'when life's getting you hot under the collar, think Cold thoughts' - hoodies he stole, might I add, not that there's a public company in the world that's going to publically take clothing away from kids with cancer..."

Julian snorts. "What is he, running for mayor?" he says with a sneer.

"Don't ask me to understand Snart," Joe says. "If I were any good at it, he'd be in prison."

"Did Eddie find something in the logs?" Barry asks, thinking back. "He had his thinking-face on."

"He thought he did," Joe says. "Went down to records to check it out."

"What's left of records, you mean," Julian says.

To be fair, there wasn't much left after Snart's midnight raid. Of course, they couldn't prove it was Snart's doing, certainly without the relevant records, but the tell-tale thin layer of frost left behind made it pretty clear. Not that the policemen who'd first found it had thought to take a picture of it before it melted away...

The simultaneous electronic attack that ate away a big chunk of their electronic files and back-ups only made it more likely that it was Snart. He wasn't necessarily known for hacking, but simultaneous attacks utilizing all the skills of his subordinates were just his style.

Everyone just quietly hoped that it'd been a one-time job and Snart hadn't actually acquired a high-class hacker willing to join his Rogues.

"Well, hope Eddie's hunch gets us somewhere," Barry says. "Palmer Tech seems like a dead end."

"Except for the fact that the CEO, the COO, and the Head of R&D all flew over from Starling to show us around in person," Joe says. "They're staying on the suspect list."

Barry wonders if he should mention that he saw Felicity outside during their investigation - but no. There's no law against taking a smoke break.

"Anything from Mercury?" Joe asks Julian.

"Ms. McGee was outraged we were trespassing, interfering with delicate projects, etc., etc.," Julian says with a shrug. “The usual. Actually, it turned out that her stolen project related to tachyons, not heat tech. Their heat tech is, according to them, still secure – they’re developing a heat-sensitive trigger, designed to activate alarms once a certain heat threshold has been passed.”

“Alarms,” Barry says, arching his eyebrows, “or a fuse?”

“Given the prevalence of the word ‘trigger’ being used and the dearth of any additional details,” Julian says dryly, “I suspect the answer will be whatever pays more.”

“Still, strange that they weren’t hit,” Barry says, then frowns. “Wait. Were the other places hit around the same time, or sequentially?”

“Sequentially,” Julian replies, nodding in understanding already. Sometimes Barry wishes the guy wasn’t so competent, just so he could hate on him properly, but sadly, even Barry had to admit that having another brain to bounce off of has made them both more productive.

“What are you thinking, Bear?” Joe asks.

“That Mercury might not have a heat-tech related theft yet,” Barry says, gnawing at his lower lip. “If this guy is going after heat tech and given our suspicions that the leak might have come from Ramon’s Foundation – well, they just sent in a proposal, right? The guy might not know that it’s just a trigger system.”

“I’ll post some guards and tell them to keep an eye out,” Joe says. “If we can catch this guy breaking in on camera, that might be the key to catching him.”

Joe still lingers by the door a minute.

“Anything else, Joe?”

“Just – you’re going to this Ramon guy, right? The one we think the leak might've come from?”

“Tomorrow, yeah; after I finish up with whatever I get from STAR Labs this afternoon, yeah, with Ramirez and Stubbins,” Barry says, smirking at Julian’s quickly suppressed jealous expression at the mention of STAR Labs. “Why?”

“Be careful,” Joe says. “I’ve been asking around. No one’s said anything yet, but – well, Ramon is a non-police affiliated meta expert. And the biggest customer for that would be…”

“Snart,” Julian says. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Not least because Ramon wouldn’t be able to get easy access to test subjects without an illicit source, and his papers are –”

“Really good,” Barry interjects.

Julian looks sour. “Yes, unfortunately. The Foundation's very good. Though personally I think his associate, Ms. Snow, likely has more to do with it..."

"Julian's got a crush," Barry says wickedly.

"I most certainly do not!"

"On her excellent biomedical analysis of metahuman physiology, honestly, Julian, get your mind out of the gutter."

Julian glares, but there’s a bit of a blush on his cheeks.

Joe chuckles. "I'll leave you two to it. But seriously, Bear - be careful, okay? I’d rather Eddie and I went with you to Ramon tomorrow, but chance are we’ll be booked solid fielding calls about our investigations today."

"Relax," Barry says. "Heatwave's not after me, okay? It was coincidence. Now shoo, I need to pack up and freak out about going to STAR Labs before meeting you downstairs."

"I don't understand what you all see in Wells," Joe complains half-heartedly; it's an old argument. "He did cause the current metahuman crisis, you all remember that, right?"

"It's not technically a metahuman crisis," Julian says immediately. "It's just regular crime, as done by metahumans."

Julian had had a serious grudge against metahumans early on in his career, but after he'd nearly shot a kid pretending to be one, he'd gotten some serious therapy and sensitivity training.

"Plus, Heatwave's not a meta, remember?" Barry reminds Joe. "Can't say that one's a meta issue."

"Not that certain newspapers haven't tried."

"Man, am I glad Iris took the job with Picture News," Barry says. "Even if that tabloid probably would've paid better."

Joe glares the way he always does when someone brings up Iris, but Barry's working on wearing him down. It might take forever, but eventually he'll get used to hearing her name and maybe - just maybe - they'll be able to work their way to an apology.

Maybe.

Preferably without Barry screwing up in such a massive fashion that both of them have to forgive him because he's family, and then forgiving each other because they don't want to be hypocrites.

You know, like the last four times.

He's just about done getting his stuff ready when his phone beeps. Wondering who it might be, Barry scoops it up.

Making you something special for dinner, it read. No cheating.

Barry grins. He'd given Mick his cell number a while back, when he'd tried to order dinner on his commute home in hope that it'd arrive after he did (it arrived before, thus Mick's demand for a mobile number), but this is the first time Mick's just texted him out of the blue.

Even though his number's already saved as "M" in Barry’s phone.

Barry has a rich fantasy life, okay? And if someone - Iris - were to grab his phone now, she'd get the totally wrong impression.

Barry depresses himself for a few minutes, thinking about how he'd lure her into snatching the phone then tease her mercilessly about her misconception, if only they were still talking, but then he puts it out of his mind and focuses on the dinner Mick's undoubtedly making for him. Possibly personally.

Barry's imagination has decided to give Mick the shoulders from the guy he'd seen this morning, the hot one talking to Felicity in the alley, and for some reason he's decided to cook Barry's dinner shirtless. Mmmm, yes, please.

...make that a very rich fantasy life.

Barry sends an estimate of when he expects to be at home - around eight, barring surprises - and heads off to meet Joe and Eddie for their trip to STAR Labs.

STAR Labs is just as impressive as always: a giant, round tower, looming over mostly empty parking lots that circle it like a moat.

More impressive is what's inside.

Harrison Wells had initially gone into hiding after the explosion that created the metahumans, but he had reemerged with a fresh sense of determination and a hundred new ideas, and he was slowly building his reputation back up, one small piece at a time.

He sometimes said, in interviews, that science had gotten him into the situation he was in now and so science was the only hope he had left to get back out.

Of course, all the tabloid columns were more interested in what, exactly, had caused the final split between Harrison Wells and his former protégés, Cisco Ramon and Caitlin Snow, who had been among the only people to stand by him after the accelerator explosion. And then, a year or so later, they abruptly left him, both of them: Snow to return to medicine, Ramon to start the Ramon Foundation.

After the Foundation struck gold with a number of apps and assistive technology, not to mention a number of anti-metahuman defenses, Snow had left her budding ophthalmology practice and returned to Cisco's side. More intriguingly, they had been joined by Hartley Rathaway, another ex-protégé of Wells, and one whose parting of ways had definitely been on bad terms.

Yet no matter how anyone pressed, and no matter how upset the leading members of the Foundation became when Wells was discussed, they never said a word against him. A number of gossip columns - not that Barry read those, well, not too much - suggested that Wells still had some form of blackmail over Ramon, something to do with some technology he had developed while he was still with Wells.

Barry might be a little star-struck by Harrison Wells' marvelous brain, but he's not going to let down his guard. His dad had always said that if a teacher keeps chewing up and spitting out students, the problem's with the teacher.

He hadn't been able to see his dad in a while. Henry Allen had been hit by the accelerator explosion when he’d been given that day pass to visit Barry to watch the grand opening, resulting in a nine-month coma and speed meta powers, both of which had definitely taken a few years off Barry’s life, but he steadfastly refused to use those powers to escape prison, which didn't always make him too popular with the other inmates. That meant more solitary, which meant fewer visiting hours.

Barry missed him.

It’d be nice to have someone in his life that he could talk to about stupid things, like fanboying over Harrison Wells.

Huh, maybe he could talk about it with Mick over dinner. It wasn’t like it was police work or anything.

"Gentlemen, sorry to keep you waiting," the man himself said.

Barry jumps a little, not having seen him lurking in the shadows in his wheelchair. Though in fairness, Barry was also hanging back a bit.

He turns to look, and - oh, wow, it's really him.

Harrison Wells. He looks just as distinguished as on television - though he also looks just as gray and worn out as he did on television, too, which was presumably why the gossip mags had a field day proposing that he had any number of mysterious illnesses potentially caused by playing with dark matter.

"Not a problem," Joe says. "I'm Detective West; we spoke on the phone. We're sorry to take time out of your undoubtedly busy day."

Barry very carefully did not look around the virtually deserted labs.

"Not at all," Wells said. "You're here to investigate the theft of the thermal core?"

"Thermal core?"

"Yes," Wells says. "I've been working on developing energy sources - smaller, more efficient. Someone took a prototype and hid it somewhere."

"How do you know that they hid it?" Eddie asks.

"I went to look for it, obviously!" Wells snaps.

"And you weren't in the lab that night?"

"No," Wells says, regaining his composure by a visible effort. "I'm sorry, Detective...?"

"Thawne."

Wells' hands clench on his wheelchair. "I see. Yes. Of course. Welcome."

"And this is our colleague, CSI Barry Allen," Eddie adds. “He’ll be assisting us today.”

Wells' reaction is - well, Barry's going to have to go with weird.

He twists to look at Barry, and he's almost - hungry. But also like Barry's disappointed him, somehow, like Barry's a very close but not quite right reminder of someone he wanted to see.

Also, is it just Barry, or is his hair going blond at the roots and the tips? Like, not white or grey, but blond?

Weird.

Barry'd say that Wells must think that brunettes have more fun and forgot to dye his hair recently enough, but it doesn't explain the slight blond at the tips. Whatever, Barry's not here for hair styling advice.

"Mr. Allen," Wells says. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"I wasn't aware it was such an honor," Barry says, aiming for light-hearted as he shakes Wells' hand. He's mostly kind of creeped. "It's an honor to meet you. Sorry for imposing on you like this."

Wells' smile is tight-lipped.

"Not at all," he says. "I'll show you where the lab is."

The lab is stupendous, but Barry's got this weird feeling, like it was almost meant for something else before it got transformed into what it is now. There's a surprising amount of tech that he can identify as medical; he doesn't know what a physics lab would need with that. At least the speed measurement stuff makes some sense.

Wells goes away for a few minute, some excuse about putting something in order, and comes back refreshed, almost perky; he's charming and urbane, chatting lightly with them as they search his lab.

Barry doesn’t glance at Joe or Eddie, but he assumes they’re thinking the same thing (drugs) as he is. Possibly prescription, possibly not, but man, what a difference. The Harrison Wells that left them was erratic, irritable, eccentric; the one who returns is the one that made himself famous enough to sweet-talk the city into building his Particle Accelerator.

Charming enough to almost (almost) make them forget how weird his introduction was.

Amazingly enough, Wells seems to enjoy talking with Barry. He’s interested in Barry’s work, his projects, everything; he seems to think Barry’s got great potential, which, uh, Barry’s going to have to find a way to include in his official write-up because holy crap Harrison Wells thinks he has great potential and everyone, ever, needs to know about it.

Joe and Eddie don’t seem particularly happy about it, but whatever.

It’s probably just because they’re not finding anything useful.

“Perhaps you can stay behind, Mr. Allen,” Wells says with a smile. “I’d love to discuss your theories in further depth –”

“I’m afraid since this is an open investigation, it wouldn’t be appropriate for Mr. Allen to socialize,” Joe cuts in.

Barry gives him an injured look. Does he not realize this is Harrison Wells?

“There would be nothing inappropriate about it, I assure you,” Wells says smoothly. “Merely an academic discussion of mutual interests, which I believe is entirely permissible, even in an open investigation. After all, I’m not a suspect, am I?”

“Of course not, Mr. Wells,” Barry says, reaching for his phone in order to text Joe to shut up. “I’m sure that –”

His phone.

No cheating.

“– we’ll be able to catch up another time,” Barry finishes with a sigh. Damnit.

If it wasn’t the very first time Mick had texted him, he might have opted to cancel, but Barry’s lost too many friendships to his inability to schedule his life properly, and he’s not losing this one.

Wells looks disappointed. “Another time, then,” he says. Then he smiles. "We'll have to make sure of it."