Blushing and keeping your head down as you walked through the bridge, you smirked and tried to ignore the vivid set of eyes following your every move before grabbing at one of the many coffees Rip had set out and taking a seat on the floor near Leonard who immediately hunched over knees and brushed the tip of his foot against your leg in order to grasp at some form of contact now that you were awake…
“Good of you to join us…” Rip started as his dark eyes cut toward you in a way that let you know you and the rest of the team were about to get a nice sized lecture on how you’d all individually marred history with the shenanigans you pulled during your mid-nineties Vegas venture.
Pursing your lips and dropping your stare to your coffee, you buckled down and readied yourself for what was going to be the longest scolding of your life but before Rip could even draw in his first breath, you felt Leonard’s foot wedging itself under your thigh and without thinking, your eyes flicked toward him. There was a subtle smirk curling at the corner of his mouth before he finally leaned back in his seat and nodded his head toward the empty space between his legs.
With narrowed eyes, you briefly glanced toward Rip who was pretty busy tearing into Jax for some impulsive bullshit move he did at a casino before settling your stare back on Leonard and shaking your head. You were all in enough trouble as it was and it might have been bad form to cuddle up with Captain Cold while Rip Hunter was trying to get a point across…
And with that, he reached forward and wrapped a hand around your arm to coax you closer; his smirk widening into a full blown grin by the time you decided it was okay to scoot in, slot yourself between his knees, settle down and lean back to let him drop a firm grip around your shoulders.
Tilting your head back, you shot him a bright smile before hooking your arms around his calves and relishing in the feel of his hands as he palmed his way up your neck… The truth was, whatever happened between you and Leonard in Vegas, wasn’t going to stay there. Not when you’d spent evenings watching the sunset dip below the Vegas skyline, hustled card players in multiple games of poker, jumped barefoot into fountains just to play in the water like a couple of kids, and even stayed up all through the night to listen to the sound of each other’s breathing as you snuggled up in giant bed and watched the sunrise.
A little more to go with the fix fragment I sent you earlier:
Zhenya’s sitting alone in his penthouse suite, staring at the false glitter of the Vegas skyline and letting ice melt in a tumblr of staggeringly expensive scotch.
Sidney has a son. A beautiful, six year old son with his father’s eyes. Sid showed him a picture on his phone. The little boy in the photo was beaming a miniature version of Sid’s crooked smile from the sterile confines of a hospital bed. Zhenya had felt his heart turn over.
All this time, Sid hasn’t breathed a word. And Zhenya understands why. Zhenya’s world is a dark and dangerous one. Heaven knows he wouldn’t want a child mixed up in it. But it brings into aching perspective the nature of his and Sid’s relationship. The imbalance inherent in it. The fact it was a guilty, furtive pleasure Sid had allowed himself, without any illusions that it would go any further then brief fucking in a bed that doesn’t belong to either of them.
And Zhenya wants more now. Needs it. Needs Sid to know this isn’t a fling or an affair to Zhenya. Needs to wake up every morning in Sid’s arms, needs to smooth the lines of worry from Sid’s face, needs to take care of his little boy. Needs to take Sid back to the home he misses so much. A small Canadian town near the sea, he’s said before. Where it snows white and clean in the winter. Filled, Zhenya assumes, with honest, hardworking people just like the man he’s fallen desperately in love with.
What Zhenya also needs, is to be someone Sid doesn’t have to be ashamed to bring there. Zhenya thinks of the money he has in the bank, thinks of how it got there. He thinks about how all of the drive and ambition and ruthlessness that used to be the stuff his bones were knit together from, has vanished. Or been transmuted. Into something better.
What’s done is done. Zhenya’s millions have been made. But he can turn them to other ends now.
He picks up his phone, and he begins to make calls.
okay, some notes about House and Sinclair, aka The Shipwreck:
First met at a party when House was 26 and Sinclair was 23. Sinclair, who was working at a prestigious architecture firm straight out of Berkeley, had heard about RobCo purchasing land near Las Vegas. He approached House with a fully-designed idea for RobCo’s new headquarters. While House didn’t end up going with Sinclair’s design, Sinclair’s clear brilliance in both civil engineering and architecture caught House’s attention enough for him to stay in contact. They ended up becoming friends.
When Sinclair left that architecture firm a few years later to start his own development company, House — who had no doubts in Sinclair’s brilliance or ability to succeed — was one of the first investors.
Sinclair would regularly draw re-imaginings of the Vegas skyline and send them to House.
Somewhere along the way, Sinclair
got into the habit of referring to Vegas as House’s lady. (It was part
acknowledgement that House wasn’t actually into any of his ‘girls’, and
part joking about House being blatantly in love with a city.) House
played along. As in: ‘How’s your lady, Robert?’ ‘Oh, quite well. Unemployment
dropped for the third month in a row, according to the most recent
They had a running joke about retiring together to some private
island. Whenever one of them talked to the other about a difficult
business decision, or a deal going bad, the other might just respond
with the name of an island. It was never entirely serious, since House is the sort
of person who isn’t capable of retiring, but it was never just a joke, either.
To free up resources for building Las Vegas’ defenses, House pulled funding from all of Sinclair’s projects. As most of Sinclair’s other backers had recently gone bankrupt in the economic turmoil of the times, this was catastrophic for Sinclair. Sinclair never forgave House for what he saw as betrayal. Their fight over it ended with them both saying things that couldn’t be taken back, and their friendship — and anything else that may have existed between them — was over.
House still has some of Sinclair’s drawings of Vegas, tucked away in a file drawer somewhere in the Lucky 38.