Chapter Text
Leo kept scratching at the inside of his right wrist. It felt like he had a nasty bug bite, and he just couldn’t relieve the itching. As far as he knew, this wasn’t supposed to happen. But then again, maybe most people didn’t encounter the problem Leo had. Namely, he must’ve met his soulmate, and touched him (had to be a him because there were no girls here), and had gotten his soulmark. The problem was that it had happened in the middle of a brawl with six other guys (and one rescuer), so it could have been any one of them. And since he didn’t know who’d give him his soulmark, it itched like crazy.
There was only one thing for it. He’d have to figure out which of the seven guys was the culprit. He wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of one of the six bullies being his soulmate, especially since they’d jumped him on his first day in juvie just because he was small and skinny. And if he was going to place his chips on anyone, it’d be his “rescuer.”
Leo scrunched up his nose at the thought. It made him sound like a damsel in distress, which he most certainly was not. But when you were outnumbered six to one, and the smallest guy attacking you was a least twice your size, there wasn’t anything else you could be. When the leader of the gang had pulled a shiv on him, he’d thought that was it. He would die on his first day in juvie and never see his baby sister again. Who was going to keep her safe from their father if he wasn’t around?
And that’s when this great big walking wall of muscles jumped into the fray. Though he seemed more interested in giving the guys a beating than in helping Leo. But he did still help him. They had to all separate when the guards came to see what the commotion was, and that was when Leo noticed the mark on the inside of his right wrist. It looked like a couple wavy arrows surrounded by a circle. He touched it gently and it was like hitting his funny bone. He felt the shock right up his arm and into his brain.
If it turned out one of those assholes was his soulmate, he was going to shoot himself. So he was hoping it turned out to be the kid who saved him. But he didn’t go to find him right away after the fight broke up. He waited a day. And in that time, he did some research. The gang liked to jump new, small kids to show them who was boss, and would really mess up the ones who fought back, like Leo had. Also, they’d heard of his father, so his reputation preceded him, which didn’t do him any favors. As for his savior, the kid was called Mick Rory. He was two years older than Leo, and was in there for arson. He didn’t talk much, and didn’t tend to hang out with anyone else, so everyone was surprised when he’d jumped to Leo’s aid.
All interesting facts, to be sure. But there was only one way Leo was going to find out if they were soulmates. He had to see if the kid had a soulmark too, and then find out if it’d appeared at the same time. So he sought Mick out in his cell the next day. His cellmate was off with his clique, which left Mick alone.
Leo leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. “So I suppose you think I owe you now, or something, right?”
Mick looked up from where he’d been sitting on the bottom bunk, staring at a few gears he must’ve swiped from shop. “Oh. You.”
Leo frowned. “Yeah. Me. Remember? You jumped in to help me yesterday.”
Mick snorted. “You mean I saved your ass from getting a shiv shoved through it.”
Leo’s hand twitched. “Right. Why did you do that?”
Mick shrugged. “They’d have locked down the whole place if some kid died on his first day here. And that weren’t no intimidation. They were out for blood. People get messed up, fine. People die, it ain’t good for anyone.”
Leo moved further into the room. “So it really was all about self interest.”
“What else would it be? I ain’t no hero.” He smirked up at Leo. “So why are you here?”
Leo tapped his right index finger against his arm. “To talk. Maybe it was self interest, but I’m not the kind of person who doesn’t repay debts. So let me know what it is, and I’ll do it. And then we’re even.”
Mick raised an eyebrow as he looked at Leo. “You shouldn’t be so willing to offer yourself up in here. There are some bad kids in here.” Subconsciously, his hand went to his left wrist, where he started scratching at his skin.
Leo’s eyes zeroed in on it. “Well, I’m no angel. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here too.” He continued to stare down at Mick’s arm, hoping he could catch a glimpse of what Mick was scratching at. Finally, he nodded down at it. “Bug bite?”
“Huh?” Mick looked down at his wrist and his eyes widened briefly in surprised. “Uh… no…” He pulled his hand back quickly and shoved his left hand in his pocket.
Leo licked his dry lips and moved even more into the cell. “You wouldn’t… by any chance… happen to have suddenly manifested your… soulmark?”
Mick narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “What’s it to you?”
Leo took a deep breath. Fine, he was going to have to put his cards on the table if he wanted to find out. If he was wrong, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t getting together with one of those assholes who’d tried to kill him yesterday. He unwound his arms and offered his right hand out to Mick, with his wrist turned up. With his other hand, he pushed back the sleeve of his sweatshirt.
Mick’s eyes went wide again, but this time he finally pushed himself up from the bunk so he could move into Leo’s space. He had at least a head on Leo, so Leo had to crane his neck to look up at him. Mick reached out and tenderly placed his index finger against the mark on Leo’s wrist. Just like when Leo had touched it, it sent a shock right up to his brain. He shuddered at the feeling and closed his eyes.
“Before that fight, I didn’t have a mark. After, I had this. So I came to ask if the same happened to you.”
“Looks like a flame,” Mick commented. Leo squinted down at the mark. Now that he mentioned it, it did look like a flame surrounded by a circle.
“Guess that makes sense…” he said.
Mick watched him, and then he pulled his left hand out of his pocket. Slowly, he turned it over so Leo could see the inside of his wrist. His mark was the same size as Leo’s, and on the same place on his left wrist as Leo’s was on his right. It looked like a circle with a six-pointed snowflake in it.
“It’s a snowflake,” Leo said. He reached out with his right hand and touched the mark. Mick shuddered like a similar shock was going through him. So Leo slid his hand up and gripped Mick’s wrist so their marks lined up. The itching went away like magic and the most perfect sense of alignment filled his body.
“Huh,” Mick said as he stared down at their joined hands. He had wrapped his fingers around Leo’s thin wrist at the same time Leo had gripped his own wrist. So he let his thumb stroke against Leo’s skin before pulling his hand back.
“No kidding.” Leo looked up at him. “I’m Leonard Snart, by the way.”
Mick smirked lightly. “Mick Rory. Guess this makes us…” he pointed between them in lieu of actually saying the words.
Leo smirked too. “Soulmates? Who’d’ve thought we’d meet in juvie, of all places.”
“Makes sense for me. I seem to spend more time here than anywhere else.” Mick dropped back down onto the bunk, but this time he indicated for Leo to take a seat next to him.
“Well this is my first time.” Leo sat down gingerly and leaned against one of the metal poles.
“Good little boy who made one little mistake?”
“Hardly.” Leo rolled his eyes. “This was just the first time I was caught . Trust me, I’ve been in this game since I was eight.”
“So…” Mick smirked. “Like, a year?”
“I’m fourteen!” Leo reached out to smack him. “And I’ll be fifteen in a few months!”
“Yeah?” Mick smiled, amused. “How long you in here for?”
“Three months.” Leo looked at him. “You?”
“I’ve got six more. They want me out before I turn seventeen.”
“Guess that means we have a few months to get to know each other.”
“Guess so.” Mick scooted back so he could have his back to the wall. “Do you really go by Leonard?”
Leo wrinkled his nose. “Rarely. My nickname’s Leo.”
Mick rolled his eyes. “That’s even worse.”
Leo almost opened his mouth to protest, but then he thought about how his father called him Leo when he wanted something, and how he called him Leo when he did something wrong, and how he called him Leo when he was about to give him a beating. “Well then, what would you suggest, Mick ?”
Mick shrugged. “I like Len.”
“Len?” Leo asked dryly.
“Or Lenny.”
“You are not calling me Lenny.”
Mick smirked. “We’ll see about that. Lenny.”
“You call me Lenny and I will call you Mickey, like the damn mouse.”
Mick didn’t seem intimidated at all. Instead he laughed. “Well, let’s go with Len.”
He rolled it around in his head. It didn’t entirely suck, and somehow he liked the idea that his soulmate would call him something different than the nickname his asshole father called him. “Well, I don’t hate it,” he said at last.
Mick laughed again. “Sure thing, Len.”
The other people weren’t wrong. Mick really didn’t hang around anyone else. Len thought it was because most people were either afraid of him or thought he was stupid, or both. Len didn’t think Mick was stupid. After spending all their free time together for his first week in juvie, he definitely didn’t think Mick was stupid. He just had a bit of a problem with fire.
When the old toaster caught fire in the cafeteria, it was all Len could do to keep Mick from vaulting over the counter to see it. And while he no longer scratched at his mark, his fingers twitched and shook like he was going through some kind of withdrawal. In a way, he probably was.
So the first opportunity Len had, he nicked a book of matches off one of the guards. His father always brought him on jobs because he had tiny, dexterous hands, which made him a born pickpocket. Though it was actually shoplifting that had landed him in juvie. He’d been trying to steal a toy for Lisa and hadn’t noticed the second shop attendant until he was caught.
He walked over to Mick, who sat huddled into himself on the bleachers, staring at nothing. Slowly, Len slipped onto the bleacher next to him and pulled Mick’s hand out of his pocket so he could slip the matchbook into his palm.
Mick rounded on him and squeezed the matchbook, and Len’s hand, before he had a chance to pull it away.
“Where'd you get that?”
“Noticed a few guards smoke. One likes matchbooks, so I figured he wouldn’t mind too much if it went missing.” He stared steadily into Mick’s face. “You looked like you could use it. And this makes us even for my first week.”
Mick huffed out a laugh and let Len’s hand go. He held up the matchbook and carefully pulled out one of the cardboard matches before striking it against the top. The match lit up into a bright flame. Mick watched it reverently, until it burned all the way down to his fingers. He didn’t seem to care if his fingertips got singed. Once that flame died, he pulled out a second match and lit that one. He repeated that with the third, and then the fourth match.
After that, Mick took a deep breath and carefully folded the paper cover closed over the remaining matches. He slipped the matchbook into his pocket and looked over at Len. “Thanks,” he said quietly after a moment.
Len shrugged and buried his hands in his own pockets. “Told you, we’re even now.”
“Right.” Mick smirked, amused. “How’d you know that was what I needed?”
“You’re in here for arson, right? After what happened in the kitchen, I figured what you needed was a bit of fire.” Len felt his lips turn up in a smirk too. “And I’m really good with my hands.”
Mick quirked an eyebrow. “That a fact?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Len continued to tease.
“Not while you’re still jailbait, kid.”
Len frowned. “You’re only two years older than me.”
“And you look like you’re ten.”
Len couldn’t help it. He pouted. “I do not.”
Mick laughed outright. “Especially when you do that.” He leaned over and cupped the back of Len’s head so he could bring their foreheads together. “Thanks for the matches, Lenny. I needed that.”
Len didn’t even bother to tell him off for calling him Lenny. “Sure thing…” He also didn’t bother to point out that he was pretending it was to repay the debt of saving him in the yard. Really, he stole the matches for Mick because he wanted to. He closed his eyes and let his forehead fully rest against Mick’s, liking the feel of that too much to pull away.
After a moment, Mick sighed and pulled his head back. He looked down at Len and let his fingers slide through the close-cropped strands of hair at the back of his head before pulling his hand back too. “Can’t exactly sit here like that. Just asking for trouble.”
“Right…” Len buried his hands even deeper into his pockets. He hated when people touched him. Probably had something to do with his father. But he yearned for Mick’s touch. He’d never yearned for anything before, so it was a strange feeling. And he was trying to hide the fact that he really hadn’t wanted Mick to pull back from the embrace.
Maybe Mick figured it out anyway. Or maybe he felt the same. Cause he had a big smile on his face. “You seem disappointed.”
Len shuffled around on the bleachers. “No…”
“Sure about that?” Mick continued to grin widely at him.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Len scoffed as she pushed himself to his feet and stepped down off the bleachers.
“You mean like you flatter yourself?”
Len turned to smirk over his shoulder. “But I really am as good as I say.” Mick’s laugh followed him all the way back inside.