|Fic -- When Lisa Met the Rogues
||[May. 28th, 2008|03:57 am]
Hail the Rogues!
Title: When Lisa Met the Rogues
Word Count: 1751
Characters: Captain Cold, Golden Glider, the Top, some Rogue cameos.
Summary: Lisa meets the Rogues, and gains a skating coach.
Warnings: Some language, and implied naughtiness.
Author's Notes: Story #6. We don't know how they hooked up, but I figure this might be how it happened. A couple of related scans: here and here (with a misspelling of Roscoe's surname).
And in case you were wondering, he really did have a top-shaped satellite stuffed with money.
“I really don’t think these are guys you should be hanging out with. It’s not too late to turn back,” Len reminded his sister for the second time within an hour, disapproval obvious in his voice.
“Oh, calm down. It’s not like I’m going to sleep with them all in one night,” Lisa retorted with a hint of exasperated humour. “Although that might be kinda hot…”
“Forget it. Don’t come cryin’ to me if one of them says or does something stupid,” Len finally relented, shuddering at the thought of his sister sleeping with any --- let alone all --- of his colleagues. “But I’ll kill them if they touch you.”
“Lenny, I’m twenty-four, and more than able to make these decisions for myself! So let it ride!”
He was relieved when they finally reached the bar, so they could put an end to the uncomfortable conversation.
“There they are,” he nudged Lisa discreetly, pointing at a jovial group of men sitting at the largest table. They had multiple pitchers of beer for easy self-service, and most were laughing loudly as they conversed.
“That one’s cute,” she noted appreciatively, gaze focusing on Sam Scudder, and Len shuddered again. “Then again…they all are. Except that one, with the receding hairline.”
“Look, let’s stop thinking about how cute they are and just sit down, okay?”
“Whatever, you’re such a killjoy, Lenny.”
With a mental prayer to be granted patience, he waved at the table, and they cheerfully beckoned him over, with Lisa trailing behind him. The men were clearly looking her up and down, some with open interest.
“Who’s this?” Hartley asked curiously. He liked the company of the other Rogues, but sometimes tired of the macho bullshit that tended to surround them, and hoped introducing a woman might curb it.
“My sister Lisa,” Len said sharply, and many of them looked disappointed.
“Hi boys,” she greeted them flirtatiously, and winked at Sam. He seemed slightly taken aback.
“Have a beer!” Digger shouted enthusiastically, obviously having had a few himself.
“Don’t mind if I do,” she agreed, and sat down in the empty chair between Len and Hartley.
“She’s a Snart, all right,” Mark said with amusement as she quickly helped herself to a beer and took a long swig.
“The only good one in the whole family,” Len replied with a proud grin.
After a few hours of merriment, Lisa poked her brother’s side and whispered in his ear. “Which one is the guy who spins?”
“Roscoe,” he replied.
The man in question was outside on a smoke break, so Lisa got to her feet.
“I’m going to talk to him.”
“If you want to hear all about goddamn tops, go ahead. But why?”
“Skating,” she answered quickly, and hurried outside before he could question her further.
She found Roscoe wandering aimlessly a few metres from the bar’s entrance, puffing away and looking up at the stars, so she joined him.
“You interested in astronomy?” he asked her. He was watching the sky for the imminent appearance of his personal satellite, although he didn’t tell her that. He hadn’t told anyone about it, knowing others would be all too keen on its lucrative cargo.
“Not really…” she admitted. “I came to talk to you.”
“Oh. What about?”
“You spin, right? That’s your thing. Well, I’m an ice skater, and I would love to know how you do it. I was wondering if you could teach me.”
She looked at him with an expression that was half-beseeching and half-coquettish, in the hopes that would get him to agree. It seemed to work on most men.
“I suppose so,” he replied, surprised and flattered. “It’s not easy. But if you really want to learn, and you work hard at it…”
“I will,” she said brightly. “Thank you, it should really help my career.”
“Okay then,” he agreed with a smile, holding out his hand for her to shake. “Consider me your new coach.”
The following week found Lisa and Roscoe at her regular ice rink, beginning the lessons. She’d wanted to learn spinning on the ice right away, but he disapproved, pointing out she needed to learn the fundamentals first. That was best done on solid ground.
“Perfect balance is the key,” he instructed as she watched him spin in place like a dervish. “And you need to strengthen your toes, at least if you do it on land. The mechanics might be a bit different on skates.”
“Doesn’t that hurt?” she asked, wondering about the strain on his toes.
“At first. You get used to it.”
“Not anymore. You get used to that too.”
“You’ve certainly made this into an art,” she noted appreciatively, and he smiled, always pleased by flattery.
“I prefer to think of it as a science, actually. That’s how I got started in it,” he replied cheerfully, and then came to a halt. Though his breathing was a little heavier, he did not seem to be dizzy nor suffering any ill effects from the spinning. “Now you try. Slowly at first, then you’ll go faster with practice.”
“Okay…” Lisa said uncertainly, standing up on her toes and wobbling a bit. She had spun on skates before, but this was quite different. Her toes were already hurting, and she was finding it difficult to balance. When she tried to twirl a bit, it wasn’t long before she toppled to the ground.
“Ow!” she yelped as she landed awkwardly on one shoulder. Roscoe quickly bent down and looked her over with concern.
“Damn! You all right? Did you hit your head?” he asked worriedly, checking for bumps or blood.
“No, just my shoulder,” she mumbled, feeling terribly embarrassed. She didn’t want him to know how much it hurt, for fear of looking even more foolish and the risk of him cutting short the lesson. But she gasped in pain when he touched it, and he frowned.
“You’ll want to have a doctor look at that,” he noted, and she sighed with resignation. To help her up, but avoid aggravating her shoulder, he put an arm around her waist and hoisted her up easily; years of spinning and throwing weaponized tops had given him good upper body strength. This time, Lisa gasped for a different reason, but when she looked at him to see if he was trying to flirt with her, she didn’t notice anything to suggest it. Slightly disappointed, she tried to put it out of her mind.
“I’ve skated through injuries before,” she argued, and he grinned.
“I’m glad you’re tough, but you won’t be doing that on my watch.”
“You’re not my boss!” she retorted irritably, and Roscoe’s expression spread into an inscrutable smile she was later to learn was quite common for him.
“You want me to be your coach, or don’t you?”
“Yes…I suppose…” she grumbled, and glowered petulantly at him. He seemed to find this amusing.
“I’ll drive you to a doctor’s office,” he announced, chuckling to himself. “Depending on the prognosis, we can start again soon. In the meantime, try to take it easy, all right Lisa?”
“Fine,” she muttered in a sulky tone, gathering her things with her good arm and reluctantly following him to his car. He’s lucky that he’s cute, she thought balefully to herself.
The doctor gave the go-ahead to start training again after several days, so the two of them were back at it half a week later.
“Okay, this time I’ll prop you up when you’re on your toes, so you become better at balancing,” Roscoe told her matter-of-factly. “Then it should be easier once you’ve got it down pat.”
“All right,” Lisa replied, biting her lip when he put his hands on her waist. She liked it…so it was distracting.
“Concentrate!” he reminded her brusquely as she wobbled slightly.
“I am, dammit!” she snapped. “My toes hurt.”
“You’ll need to get over that if you want to do this. Didn’t you have to work hard to learn to skate?”
“My brother helped me!”
“And I’m helping you now. Concentrate, Lisa, and look straight ahead. You can do this.”
Steadying herself, she stood on her toes with arms held out for balance, while he kept his hands on her waist in case she fell. He suddenly wondered if that had been the wrong thing to do, because it was evoking less-than-professional feelings in him; lusting after Captain Cold’s little sister seemed like a decidedly bad idea.
“Am I doing okay?” she asked, yanking him out of his thoughts, and left him startled.
“Uh, yeah, you’re doing great,” he said uncomfortably, which was true. “But, er, maybe we should end the lesson early today. Something’s…come up.”
He immediately winced at his last choice of words, because they were also true.
“What? We just started!” she objected, and he took his hands off her. “Roscoe, what the hell?”
“I’ve gotta go,” he croaked, making a beeline straight for the men’s washroom as Lisa stared in disbelief. However, she decided to run after him, and managed to catch up just before he could escape inside. She grabbed his wrist and tugged him around to face her.
“Oh. I see what your problem is,” she giggled, and he turned beet red.
“I’m sorry…I didn’t think that would happen. `Scuse me…”
He tried to go into the restroom again, but she didn’t release his wrist.
“Well, you don’t need to go in alone,” she said with a wink, and he simply gaped at her, unable to form a coherent response to the implied offer.
“I don’t think…not a good idea…” was all he could mumble lamely, even though he rather liked the suggestion.
“Oh well, suit yourself,” Lisa replied with obvious disappointment, and let go. Thoroughly conflicted and embarrassed, he immediately fled into the washroom and berated himself for general idiocy and missed opportunities.
When Roscoe emerged ten minutes later, he found Lisa lounging around the rink’s bleachers, looking like a cat who’d swallowed a canary.
“I…sorry. What now?” he asked bleakly, certain she would no longer want anything to do with him.
“Well, you can start by getting back to the lesson,” she replied with a sly smile. She’d undone a button on her blouse, showing off an almost indecent amount of cleavage. “And then you can take me out to dinner. Who knows where things will go from there?”
“Okay,” he said, sounding defeated, but feeling significantly relieved. His confidence was slowly returning. “I can live with that.”