Summary: "If you want to pretend this is about irritating a few pigs, then sure. We can pretend its that. So, mighty and fearsome Captain Cold," Mick mocks in the driest tone, "how are we going about poking the poodle?"

It's times like these that Len really hates that exists and that Mick likes spending time reading the articles there. Makes him a better writer, he says. Makes him a bigger pain in the ass, says Len.

Notes: This story is not to be taken seriously in any way, shape, or form.

For the Free Space on my Coldflash Bingo card.

Poking the Poodle (And Other Ridiculous Tv Tropes)

It starts after the aliens attacked the Earth.

The President has an impromptu live event honoring the heroes that thwarted the Dominators. She pardons all of them of any crimes – vigilantism, murder, theft, whatever – and somehow manages to command enough respect from Mick Rory that he stands completely still and smiles politely for the camera. Len is impressed and regrets that he didn't vote for her.

(His face had been a little too well known that election year. He'd been forced to abstain from voting where, usually, he did so under one of his aliases. He would have voted for her and her running mate, though. Mostly because of her, even though she'd been running for Vice President at the time.)

But, anyway, that's where it starts. Getting an official pardon – not just his electronic history disappeared, but an actual pardon – from the President on live TV. Standing between the Flash and Sara in his trademark parka, smirk firmly in place. And it occurs to him that he has a brief window of time in which he can deliberately screw with the CCPD – particularly Barry and Detective West – and not get in trouble for it.

Once he commits his first post-pardon crime, of course, any taunting of the police force would get him arrested. But… Len's got this idea in his head now and its not going to go away until he's seen it through.

Mick's going to be pissed once he finds out.

"You always did have a thing for mouthy twinks," Mick says when Len finishes laying out his plan.

"What?!" Yes, Len had a type, but what the hell did that have to do with his evil plot to annoy the hell out of the CCPD while they, legally, had no leg to stand on when it came to arresting him?

"Well, you do," Mick insists, as though he's making an actual point.

"What does that have to do with this plan?" Len snaps, frustrated. This was not the reaction he'd anticipated (hoped for, really).

Mick just smirks. "If you want to pretend this is about irritating a few pigs, then sure. We can pretend its that. So, mighty and fearsome Captain Cold," he mocks in the driest tone, "how are we going about poking the poodle?"

It's times like these that Len really hates that exists and that Mick likes spending time reading the articles there. Makes him a better writer, he says. Makes him a bigger pain in the ass, says Len.

Len is a 'witness' to a crime. In that a crime happened and Len did fuck all to stop it and then cheerfully insisted on coming down to the station to make a statement because he 'saw it all happen, officer, honest'.

The poor beat cop looks kind of terrified, really, and Mick definitely does the opposite of helping by giving the cop a coffee and danish from a nearby coffee shop that Mick only marginally approves of. (The cop stares at the coffee and danish like he thinks they might be poisoned but is too afraid of Mick to actually toss the items in the nearest trashcan.)

Anyway, they get to the station and everyone stares. Some detective that Mick doesn't recognize finally demands to know why Len and Mick aren't in cuffs.

"Th-they're not under arrest," the dazed beat cop insists, still holding his coffee and danish at arms length. "They… they're witnesses. To… a crime."

"Correction," Mick speaks up. "Len's a witness. I saw nothing, I heard nothing, and I wish to god I hadn't gotten up this morning. But this is basically a train wreck in the making and I can't stop watching. Anyone else want a coffee?" He'd gotten four. One for himself, one for Len, one for the poor beat cop, and one to taunt the officers and detectives in the station with.

There was another long moment of silence. Then Detective West, looking like he's being forced to chew nails, speaks up. "What crime did you witness… Mr. Snart?"

"It was a theft," Len says, bright smile on his face. "Terribly executed too. It's almost insulting to call the person who did it a thief."

Someone appears at Mick's elbow. "I'll take that coffee, if its still on offer."

Mick passes the coffee over to Barry Allen, CSI and mouthy twink, and tries to figure out if Allen just ran up at super speeds and no one noticed or if he slunk over very quietly and Mick's a little off his game today.

"This is hilarious, but I'm the one who has to put up with Joe at dinner tonight when he spends the entire meal complaining about you two. Why is he doing this?" Allen sounds more resigned to his fate than anything.

"Because sometimes," Mick replies quietly, "Len likes to be a dramatic bitch."

Allen snorts into his coffee as he tries to drink and laugh at the same time, nearly choking but recovering quickly enough.

"So why do you still live with West."

"Because I was struck with lightning and spent nine months in a coma. Medical bills kind of fucked with my finances, but fortunately Joe's good family." Allen paused a moment, then added, "Sara says Len's not the only one prone to acting like a dramatic bitch."

"I have no idea who you, or she, might be alluding to. Unless its Rip and then, yes, he's also a dramatic bitch." Mick took a drink of his coffee and watched in silence as Len proceeded to be the most melodramatic witness/professional critic of thievery to ever walk into the CCPD.

Allen spent most of that time snickering at Len and West's interactions while reassuring the beat cop that the coffee and danish were fine and most definitely not poisoned and if he's not going to eat the danish then can Allen have it instead?

"How do you even know Rory well enough to talk to him?" The beat cop hisses, looking utterly terrified, even as he hands the danish over.

"I don't. But I know Laurel Lance, whose sister Sara is the White Canary. Sara and Ray Palmer – both of them part of the Legends... the President did mention their team name during that live ceremony, remember? Anyway, they've both been hanging out at STAR Labs the last few days while on break from time traveling or whatever it is they really do." Allen shrugged.

"And you're friends with the scientists at STAR Labs," the beat cop fills in, relaxing a little. "Still… they're Captain Cold and Heatwave." He stares at his coffee in consideration.

"And Sara is a semi-retired international assassin trained by a shadow organization over a few hundred years old. She's scarier than they are."

"… she's what?"

"Think Natasha Romanov but not Russian."

"Oh," says the beat cop faintly. He does not seem reassured that Barry Allen is not afraid of the scary assassin lady.

"What, exactly, has Sara been telling you and your little friends?" Len demands, having finished giving his statement and not looking pleased that Mick got more of Allen's attention so far than he did.

The beat cop took a big drink of the coffee in what was likely a reflex action to look casual and too busy to continue being a part of the conversation. And then he stared at the cup in horror.

"It's not poisoned, Reggie," Allen huffed in irritation. "Neither is the danish."

The beat cop – Reggie – walked off in a daze, still staring in terror at the coffee cup in his hands.

Mick sniggers into his now empty cup. This is more amusing than he'd thought it'd be.

"Sara might've mentioned a certain Frozen themed party they had for your birthday," Allen tells Len.

Len's face is a picture of exasperation because this was not how the plan was supposed to go at all. "There was no..." he starts to deny.

"It was my idea," Mick throws in, because why not? It was, in fact, his idea. Inspired by Ray, who'd gotten the lyrics to 'Let it Go' stuck in his head one afternoon in 1932 Paris and proceeded to sing the refrain, badly off key, for about ten minutes before Mick threatened to roast him. "Snowflake banners all over the ship. Rip was almost as horrified as Snart was, which was half the fun."

Allen has a slyly amused expression on his face. Mick can almost get what Len sees in the kid.

"I'm gonna kill her," Len mutters.

"The international assassin? Yeah, good luck with that," Allen responds instantly, and dismissively.

Len bristles and stalks off. Mission failed.

Maybe this has gotten the whole poodle poking thing out of Len's system. Mick can dream, anyway. He'd like to make a big score – put something back on his record at least – before heading off with the Legends again. It's weird being pardoned. Standing in a police station without cuffs on his wrists or guns pointed at him. Mick doesn't like it.

Okay, so Len hadn't counted on Barry being incredibly laid back about his two biggest nemeses showing up in the police station. Or claiming to be unperturbed by them because Sara was scarier.

Sara was not scarier, dammit. She wasn't. (She kind of was, actually.)

Anyway, Len comes up with another paper thin pretense for annoying the CCPD. Mick brings more coffee and danishes.

Len manages to set up on some bench seating near the elevators and begins playing youtube videos. Specifically youtube videos of a certain high school glee club's performances from 2005-2007.

It's playing "Smooth Criminal" when Barry walks up, some blond Brit following along behind him.

"Allen, I really don't think this is a good idea," the British guy is saying while Barry clearly ignores him.

"I don't suppose that coffee..." Barry starts, trailing off as a to go cup and a danish are handed off to him. "Thanks." He settles on the bench beside Snart and immediately steals his phone.

"Hey!"

"If you're going to use videos of my high school glee club to annoy my coworkers, the least you can do is use the ones with the good sound quality." Barry taps the screen a few times, then hands the phone back.

Sure enough, "Smooth Criminal" is playing louder and the young Barry on the stage in the video no longer sounds tinny through the speaker.

The British guy face palms.

"You know," Barry says, looking far too amused when he was supposed to be aggravated, "I'm a much better singer now than I was then."

"We have a meeting with Captain Singh," the British guy grinds out, sounding pissed.

"That's right, we do. Rory, is that last coffee for anyone in particular or..."

"You've already got one," Mick points out. Barry gestures to his impatient coworker. "Oh, yeah, you want a coffee?" Mick offers.

Mister British-and-impatient makes a displeased noise, exhales, closes his eyes for a moment, and then sighs. "Yes, sure, why not? Thank you," he adds, politely enough, as he takes the offered coffee.

"Have fun being obnoxious," Barry says to Len with a cheerful grin as he gets up. "Thanks for the breakfast," he adds to Mick. And then he heads off with his grumbling coworker while Len stares blankly.

"Whatever game you're trying to play with him," Mick observes as he pulls out a danish of his own, "he's winning."

"Shut up, Mick."

Mark Mardon is the first of the Rogues to ask what the hell is going on with their illustrious leader.

"Is he seriously flirting with that CSI? Detective West's foster son?" Mardon is about ready to spit nails.

Mick shrugged. "He may be West's foster kid, but he's also Doc Allen's son." And that shuts Mardon up fast because almost everyone who'd been Iron Heights while Doc Allen was there respected the hell out of that man. Even Mardon, apparently.

"Oh."

"Yeah. So let Len have his fun, alright? No need to get all pissy about your vendetta over your dead brother." Mick may have patted his heat gun like he was a Bond villain and the gun was his pet cat at that point. Mardon swallowed, nodded, and fucked off.

Unfortunately, it doesn't end there.

Shawna, Roy, and even Axel all come poking around Mick to ask what's up with Len. Lisa's out of town or she'd have skipped Mick and gone straight to grilling Cisco over whether his cute CSI buddy was good enough for her brother.

Oddly, there is not a peep at all from Rathaway.

Mick ends up checking in on the prickly genius instead.

"Been hearing general discontent from the others over Snart's choice in flirtations. Just wanted to know if you had anything to say about it?"

"Barry's a friend," Hartley replies, earning a raised eyebrow from Mick. "As long as he can't connect me to the hacks, he doesn't investigate them either. He just gives me really judgmental looks on the rare occasion we meet for lunch. I did used to work at STAR Labs, you know. And I might not be working there now, but I still know what projects they've got… running through there."

Translation: Hartley knew damn well that Barry was the Flash. And probably found Len's behavior hilarious.

"Those two have been flirting for a long while," Hartley added. "Longer than the others seem to realize. If Snart breaks Barry's heart, though, I'm defecting. If it means I have to stop robbing the rich to give to the poor while I work at STAR Labs for a short while again, then that's what happens."

"More worried about Allen breaking Snart's heart," Mick admitted quietly.

Rathaway nodded slowly. "If it goes that way, I can always drain Barry's bank account instead."

"Sounds fair."

Julian snatched up the fourth coffee and settled beside Rory on the bench while Barry and Leonard Snart flirted in stairwell. No one was even batting an eye anymore.

"It's like watching two different birds doing wildly different mating dances for each other, each unaware the other is trying to court them." Julian paused a beat and then added, "has Snart given up pretending he's not specifically here to flirt with Allen yet?"

"Not yet. I wasn't even paying attention to today's excuse. Danish?"

"Thanks."

Mick knew when Lisa came back not because she came to see him or even Len first. But because she apparently did go grill Cisco for information about Barry's suitability for Len and then semi-kidnapped Allen for lunch one day. Dragged him out of the police station in front of all those cops and not a one of them so much as batted an eye at the bemused CSI being pulled along, loudly protesting all the way, to the elevators.

Julian Albert's recounting of the story to Mick the following day was utterly deadpan and surprisingly hilarious.

Barry honestly didn't think much of Snart showing up to troll the CCPD. It was weird but somehow just so completely Len that Barry just… shrugged it off. He had work to do and the erstwhile super villain was actually making Barry's work week less stressful because it was kind of hilarious. Especially with Mick tagging along like the world's most bored commentator.

It was also adorable how nonplussed Snart got just because Barry was so nonchalant about the whole thing, so that was a bonus.

But didn't occur to him that Len was flirting with him. Badly flirting with him, but flirting nonetheless. Not until one afternoon when he got called to the Captain's office.

"Look… you need to get Snart to stopping using my detectives as his personal source of entertainment," Singh tells Barry the moment the door shuts.

"I'm sorry… what?" Barry blinks because… since when is Snart his problem? Well, not counting when Len is being a super villain. But being a minor nuisance who isn't actually breaking any laws? Not Barry's problem… right?

"Snart keeps coming here to flirt with you, Allen. Annoying and terrifying the rest of the CCPD is just icing on the cake to him." Singh paused a beat while Barry sat there like a goldfish. "Can't you just… ask him on a date or something? Put us all out of his misery?"

"What?"

"And he needs to stop calling you 'scarlet'. There's only so much chipping away at my sense of plausible deniability I can take before I'm asking you to speed him out of the station while you're not wearing a cowl."

"Oh my god..." Barry blushed and hid his face in his hands.

"It's kind of obvious that you're the Flash," Singh muttered, sounding offended.

"Not that," Barry looked up. "You're still a detective and a good one. I'm not sure when you figured out I was the Flash, but it was obvious you knew once you started actively trolling me in the bullpen. 'Speaking of Allen, where is he?'" Barry rolled his eyes. "I'm freaking out because… Snart is not flirting with me. He's not. Why would you even say that?"

"Barry," Singh replied gently, "he's been flirting with you. Blatantly. And there is cause to believe you're flirting back. There is a betting pool amongst the detectives that they think I don't know about and that Joe is pissed off about despite having money riding on next Friday."

"What?"

Singh's stare said 'you heard me' quite clearly.

Barry swallowed nervously and nodded. "I'm just going to… go back to work now."

"Talk to Snart, Allen. Even if you aren't interested in dating the man, talk to him. I want him to stop coming here to confess to witnessing petty crimes and the only one who can make him go away is you. Because Mick Rory sure as hell won't make him stop. I know. I asked. He thinks Snart's flirting with you too."

"Right. I will talk to him. Just… later." Barry then hastily retreated to his lab. Julian was already there, reading the results from some test he'd been running before lunch.

The only reason Barry asked was out of morbid curiosity.

"Julian… you don't think Snart is coming here to flirt with me, do you?"

"Of course he is, Allen. Don't be daft."

Not even a second's hesitation in that response.

Barry had never felt more oblivious. How did this become his life?

"You know what?" Allen asked rhetorically. At least, Mick assumed it was a rhetorical question. If it wasn't, then it was terribly phrased. "I've been here for over five hours already," - it was only ten in the morning, when the hell did Allen start work? - "because I got called in early. I'm due a break. Let's get coffee."

"Mick brought..." Snart starts to say and Mick snatches the iced coffee out of Len's hand.

"For the love of god, if you don't go have a coffee date with that man now I am dumping this over your head." Mick glares at Len who glares back.

"Fine." Snart turns back to Allen and smiles. "I'd love to get coffee with you, Barry," he purrs flirtatiously.

Mick just rolls his eyes. Once they're gone, Mick sets aside what used to be Len's coffee, takes a long drink of his own hot coffee, then looks over at the remaining CSI. "You realize this isn't over, right? This is just the beginning."

"Yeah, I'm well aware we're basically doomed. I'm not sure anyone else has figured that out yet, but… we're stuck with Snart just coming by whenever he feels like it to flirt with his boyfriend now. At least the paper thin excuses will stop." Julian looks hopeful. Mick does not feel the least bit bad about taking that hope away.

"Assuming those two idiots can figure themselves out enough at this coffee date to start actually actively dating each other. I wouldn't hold my breath, if I were you."

"Noted."