Northern Downpour

[sinnabird]

Title: Northern Downpour
Rating: G
Fandom: The Flash (TV)
Characters: Hartley Rathaway, Lisa Snart
Ships: Gen
Warnings: canon character death (discussed), alcohol as an unhealthy reaction to grief, blatant disregard for canon

Summary: Lisa Snart is the last person Hartley Rathaway expected to show up on his doorstep at 2 am.

Notes: tumblr is dead now so here have some fic to... uh... celebrate? ...mourn? idk you do you. I just wanted to actually write something and my brain + a first sentence generator supplied angst featuring my two fave rogues.

He opened the door to find a fashionably dressed blonde standing there, crying.

"Lisa?"

They'd talked all of two, maybe three times. He hadn't even talked to Snart all that much during the brief time he’d crashed on the man’s sofa, with the notable exception of a drunken rant about how he hated his parents and how he was glad Snart and Rory had stolen that dumb painting.

She brushed past him and headed straight for his liquor cabinet. He didn’t want to ask how she knew where it was. She poured herself a shot of vodka, swallowed it down, and poured another.

Hartley would normally have never dared touch her, for fear of having his hands cut off, but this seemed like an emergency. He put a hand on her wrist, keeping her from lifting the glass to her lips. She frowned and drank straight from the bottle, downing a quarter of it before Hartley could wrestle it away from her.

She was holding back. She could definitely have stopped him if she wanted to, no matter what sort of weird emotional state she was in. She smiled weakly at him.

“See, I knew you’d be the kinda guy that wouldn’t let me do anything stupid,” she said. “And you’re gay, so you won’t try to take advantage of my moment of weakness.”

She pressed herself against his side and giggled when he took a step back. She’d clearly already been drinking before she found her way to his liquor cabinet.

“Lisa, what’s going on? Should I call your brother?”

Her giggles turned into a more unhinged sort of laughter.

“Can’t do that, Hart. Lenny’s dead!”

Her laughter mingled with sobs until the latter took over and Hartley found himself with an armful of crying Lisa Snart. Messy sobs and snotty nose and all. He never thought he’d see her like this. Lisa had been one of the most in-control people he’d ever met. And considering the type of people he hung around with for most of his life were the type of people who actually controlled large portions of the world, that was saying something.

Then again, Leonard Snart had seemed immortal. Hearing he was dead shook Hartley more than he cared to admit. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Lisa was clinging to him like he was the only thing holding her up – which perhaps he was.

Hartley half-carried Lisa the few steps to the couch and sat down with her. She immediately pulled her legs up and curled into him. Hesitantly, Hartley wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug.

What exactly were you supposed to do for someone who was grieving? The few funerals Hartley had attended in his old life had involved stifling formality and whispered jibes at the deceased. He hadn’t been close enough to anyone he’d met at Star Labs to have any first-hand experience with grief among normal people. He remembered a coworker in another department had lost her mother and it had been a big to-do, but he’d simply dropped off flowers at her desk and not bothered to stick around to see what anyone else did.

Not for the first time, he found himself wishing he’d tried a little harder to fit in.

He sighed and ran his fingers through Lisa’s hair. That was comforting, right? Lisa seemed to agree, because her sobs progressed to hiccupping breaths and huffy exhalations.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I don’t even know, really,” she admitted. “He and Mick went off on this time travel… spaceship… thing? And something happened… and now he’s dead. And Mick didn’t even come tell me himself. I had to find out from Cisco of all people. He calls me and tells me he has to come over and he’s all secretive about it so of course I make some assumptions and then next thing I know my brother is dead and the world doesn’t make any sense.”

Well, that explained the little black dress.

“So you came to me? Why me of all people?”

“I dunno, I wasn’t really planning on going anywhere except to a bar to get trashed out of my mind, but they kicked me out and then I remembered you live around here, and I figured you seemed like the sort of person who would keep me from doing anything too stupid while I get myself back together.”

She stretched out her legs a little, putting them on Hartley’s lap.

“How do you even know where I live?”

“How do you think?” she groaned. “Stupid overprepared hypercompetent brother who keeps – kept tabs on the guy who crashed at his place one time and owes him a favor. This place is emergency safehouse J9. I’m calling in that favor now so you gotta take care of me.”

That was… less surprising than it should have been. Snart had always said Hartley could pay him back later when the time was right. Hartley had assumed the price would be cash, or jewels, or maybe some bit of engineering genius. Instead, it was caring for Snart’s sister – something Hartley was happy to do even without the threat of an owed favor being called upon.

--

In the morning, Hartley stumbled to his feet, not entirely sure when he’d fallen asleep. Lisa had remained plastered to his side the entire night, alternately crying and rambling drunkenly about her brother. He was filling a glass of water for her before he registered the fact that she was gone. A quick search around his apartment yielded only a note, taped to the bathroom mirror.

Thanks for the help, Piper. See you around.