|Fic -- Merry Christmas, Owen Mercer
||[Dec. 21st, 2008|10:24 am]
Hail the Rogues!
Title: Merry Christmas, Owen Mercer
Word Count: 1260
Characters: Captain Boomerang II, Mirror Master II
Summary: Owen finds a friend over the holidays.
Notes: For the Holiday Gift Exchange, with the prompt "I am for seeing some Bonding over X-mas with Evan and Boomer II. Cause ya gotta admit. Both set of their 'Parents' aren't about anymore. [AND IT CAN end up in Smut if ya so desire.] Extra love for Proper Accents <3"
I hope the accent is to your liking *g*
My other gift exchange fic will be posted in a couple of days.
It had been a quiet Christmas Eve, with various Rogues coming and going as their schedules and whims dictated. A bunch of them had enjoyed a tasty take-out dinner a few hours earlier, which had been a nice gathering, but now many were off doing their own thing. Some had friends and family apart from the Rogues, and others were getting into the holiday spirit with a little grand larceny. Security was usually a bit lax tonight, after all, and a guy had to make a living.
But Owen Mercer was alone. He was not as theft-inclined as the others, and didn’t feel like going out. He’d decided to stay at the warehouse that served as the Rogues’ current hangout (which had been half-heartedly decorated with an ugly wreath and a scraggly little tree that evoked comparisons to Charlie Brown), hoping some of the other guys would return later. It wasn’t like he had much to go to at his own apartment, which was even less cheery. So he played video games and reflected on how much the holidays suck sometimes.
“A’m home!” called a familiar voice in a mocking tone, and Mirror Master stepped out of the television screen with a heavy bag of loot.
“Jesus!” Owen gasped, startled into dropping the game controller. “Dude, don’t do that!”
Evan laughed raucously, always delighted by how much he could spook people with that stunt. Most of the Rogues were used to it by now, but Owen was fairly new to the team.
“A gave ye a good scare, eh?”
“What do you think?” Owen asked with a slight roll of the eyes. “How’d things go tonight?”
“Canna compleen. Hou's aw wi ye?”
Evan dropped the bag on the floor and went to the beer n’ booze fridge, grabbing a can of lager for himself. He pulled off his cowled mask and sat down on a ratty old chair across from Owen.
“Aye. A ken the feelin’.”
“Yeah, you grew up in an orphanage, right? That’s what Cold told me.”
“Aye, A didna ken my real parents. Miss McCulloch was the closest A had to a mither, and A had to share her wi a pack of other bairns. She was a good wummin, though, real nice.”
“I miss my adoptive parents,” Owen said wistfully. “They died like last year, so I was really pumped when I finally met my dad…but you know how long that lasted.”
Evan nodded, a little more sombre than usual. “Yer dad was good people. It’s a damn shame ye didna get tae spend more time wi him.”
“I woulda liked to have done more stuff with him, y’know? Real father and son stuff, and gotten to know him better. Now he’s gone and I have hardly any memories of him, and I’ve still never met my mom. It sucks balls.”
“Aweel, here’s tae missing families,” Evan offered, raising his can of beer in a toast, and then downed the rest in a single gulp.
“Did you ever find your real parents?” Owen asked, and the Scotsman looked away.
“Naw, they’re dead,” he replied evasively, and that’s all he was prepared to say on the matter. Owen didn’t understand what he was talking about, but took the hint to drop it.
“So what are you gonna do for Christmas?” he asked, and Evan shrugged carelessly.
“Another robbery, mebbe. A got no plans, and A’m no much fer releegion, so this is a night like any other. Same wi the morra.”
“You wanna hang out here for a while?” Owen suggested with some timidity, hoping to have some company, and Evan shrugged again.
“Awright, why not? Cold micht come back, an’ we can play cards or something.”
Owen seemed terribly excited about this, which amused Evan. But he understood; he too had been eager for a new family when he first joined the Rogues, and had happily soaked up all the companionship he could get. Not that the big bad ex-hitman would ever let the others know this, of course. Only Cold realized it, and that was because he could read people so well. So he was willing to indulge Owen, who was younger and knew what it was like to be a neophyte replacement for an existing Rogue. Axel was also in the same situation as the two of them, but Evan could barely stand to be around him for more than a few minutes, and did not commiserate with him much.
“Hey, you want another beer?” Owen asked as he got up, and the other man nodded. The can was thrown across the room with expert precision, so Evan grinned at him.
“Yuir gettin’ better, lad. Ye’ll be as good as yer faither in no time.”
“Thanks, man,” Owen beamed, proud to be compared to Digger. His dad may have been fat and something of a laughingstock by the time he met him (he didn’t care, though), but everyone still respected his aim.
“This beer is shite, but Cold doesna want to buy ony ither type. A should just get the good stuff for him,” Evan declared scornfully as he chugged it down. When he’d finished, he casually tossed the can at the hapless little tree, where it lodged itself between two scrawny branches and gave Owen an idea.
“Say, McCulloch, you wanna decorate the tree before the others get back?”
“Are ye takkin me on? Whit for?” came the skeptical response, complete with an odd look.
“I dunno…just thought it might be nice…since we’re not gonna do it anywhere else…”
Evan sighed at Owen’s obviously-hopeful expression. This was not how he’d planned to spend the evening, but there were other nights for robbing banks.
“Shuir, awright. Wi what?”
That was a good question. The warehouse wasn’t exactly filled with ornaments and festive items. Owen thought about it for a few seconds.
“We can make do with whatever’s here,” he suggested, and began looking around the cavernous main area for decorative substitutes. Axel had left a shiny yo-yo lying on the floor, so he grabbed it. Mark had stashed some blingy jewellery from a recent theft on top of the TV, and he swiped that too. The yo-yo inspired him to use some of his own boomerangs, so he balanced them on the branches and then looked at the tree with a critical eye.
“It needs something else. Got any mirrors?”
“Daft question, ay?”
Feeling slightly ridiculous, the big bad ex-hitman pulled out some small mirrors from various hiding places on his person, and placed them on the tree. He hadn’t decorated a tree since he was nine years old, and it brought back memories of being with Miss McCulloch and the other children. Happy memories, of rare gingerbread and clootie dumpling treats as they waited for Santa to arrive, and the singing of carols. He smiled.
“There! It’s a Rogues’ Christmas tree!” Owen declared, pleased. “Fitting, don’t you think?”
Owen was still proudly admiring their work. “Axel will laugh, but who cares what he thinks? He’s a douchebag.”
Evan chuckled. “Atweel, that’s the truith. We’re stuck with him fer the nou, though, til Cold has eneuch of him.”
“…I didn’t understand half of what you just said, dude.”
“Ye needna fash yer thoum, lad.”
“And I didn’t understand any of that.”
They both laughed, and Evan clapped him on the shoulder.
“Yer awright, pal. Let’s play some of yer video games an’ wait fer the others tae retour.”
Owen grinned. There was nothing he’d like more.