Archive of Our Own ^beta

sam scudder is not a good man.

lisa is hunched over beside him on the edge of a tub and treating his wounds in the den of iniquity's small bathroom. it's a scrape from their latest run-in with the flash; he hit the pavement and skidded about 20 feet. it's not that bad, but that side of his suit is damp and sticky and dark. and he's sore- god, is he sore. lisa carefully pats down his arm with disinfectant (ow ow ow) before wrapping it up.

she's careful, thankfully. not like the other rogues. not like len who is about as careful as a rhino in a china shop. not like marco who grips a little too tightly when he's trying to sit sam still. not like hartley who means well but has never in his life had to patch someone up. maybe james would come close if he didn't slap his patients on the back with a "job well done!" right after. boomerang? forget it. last time it was just him and digger, the guy just handed him a bottle of brandy and said "walk it off, mate." at least mick would've given him good booze.

not lisa though. lisa's gentle. she's a girl, so of course she'd be gentle like that, sam guesses. firm, but not too demanding. she hums while she works and sticks her tongue out when she's focusing. lisa brushes her hair away from her face, over her shoulder, and sam notices the collar of her shirt stretches a bit, showing a bit of the strap of her bra. (it's black and lacey.) 

sam scudder is not a good man. 

but he's not a bad man, either.

he averts his gaze and inhales deeply. flinches at the slight pain in his arm. 

"you'll be okay." she says with a playful tilt in her voice.

"oh joy, i was worried there, for a second."

there's a geyser of pride that nearly bursts sam's chest open when lisa smiles wide enough to show teeth. she leans over, just close enough that sam can catch a hint of shampoo, and she ruffles his hair. 

"knock knock. don't mind me." the door to the bathroom, slightly ajar before, is pulled open completely. roscoe doesn't look too worse for wear. he looks tired, mostly. he's been looking tired often nowadays. it makes him look older than he is, and causes more arguments. guess anyone would be as snappy as roscoe is if they had to spin all the damn time during a fight. 

psshw. as if roscoe minds.

lisa stands up to meet him, and his arm immediately snakes around her middle. he holds her close to him, pressing her body nearly flush against his as he reaches for the bathroom cabinet where his medication is stored. sam watches his throat bob as roscoe swallows them down with a handful of water, and as he holds lisa against him, who's wrapped her arms around him. 

sam feels guilty watching, but he doesn't look away. (sam scudder is not a good man.)

then, they face sam again. roscoe is studying sam, who immediately feels like an ant under a magnifying glass. "that was a nasty fall you had, samuel."

"it's sam."

"are you okay?"

"i'll be fine." he holds up his bandaged arm, careful not to hurt himself while doing so. "lisa didn't maim me while patching me up like len would've. good thing, or i would've really been in trouble."

lisa preens and looks up at roscoe with a dreamy glint in her eyes. "i can be a real nurturing type when i wanna be."

now both of roscoe's arms wind around lisa's middle, and he tugs him against her. "you've gotten good. must be from all the times we've played doctor, do you think?"

oh, cheez-its . sam doesn't know how they can do this so openly and without the fear of embarrassment. sam decides it's his time to leave; he pushes himself off the edge of the tub and stretches, trying to be casual as he takes his leave. "well, doctor snart, mr. dillon. thanks for the check-up. i'm going to sleep for however long i can before the pain wakes me up again."

he stops when he feels a strong hand cupping his good shoulder, at the incline of his neck. sam looks up and sees roscoe's clever grin. he thinks he sees roscoe's sharp eyes gaze over his bare chest. "feel better, samuel."

sam's eyes dart to lisa, who is looking at sam. she's unreadable. "let me know if you need anything else, okay?"

he curtly nods and hurries himself back to his room.

sam scudder is not a good man.

it's too cold to be out now.

he can only imagine how lisa feels. 

she's currently skating in the central city skate rink after hours in nothing but that frilly, glittery, short, figure skating dress. and gliding on ice.

sam can hardly stand being in the bleachers with a down jacket on. he holds himself, shivering and wondering why he agreed to bring her here. he shouts: "why didn't you get your good for nothin' boyfriend to bring you here?! it's freezing!"

"i already told you!" she shouts as her knees bend and her arms outstretch, gliding low like a bird of prey. "he's busy and has the car. and mirror travel is a hell of a lot more convenient than... nearly anything else!"

"i'm not a fuckin' taxi driver," he mumbles under his breath, low enough so that lisa can't hear. "i didn't have to come here." at this point, he's only complaining to complain. 

it's amazing, really. watching her skate. sam didn't get the appeal when the lovebirds watched it on the TV. but it's different in real life. she's straightened back up, and lets momentum take her to the other side of the rink while facing backward. then, she turns herself around and spins around the rink. until she finds the center and twirls around. she keeps this up, lifts her right leg in the air, and grabs it with her left hand above her head. she doesn't stop spinning. 

maybe she learned that from roscoe.

his mind drifts to the image of that; the two of them holding each other on the ice. in perfect sync. holding each other as the world spins around them. 

(sam scudder is not a good man.)

for a while, he gets lost in his own thoughts. by the time he shakes himself back into the land of the waking, lisa has skated her way over to him. “are you going to sit there all night, or are you going to join me?”

“i don’t skate.” he pictures the scene that played out in his head before, with himself in the place of roscoe. “and it’s freezing.”

“it’s not as cold when your body is moving.” she shrugs and eyes the both with the skate rentals. “if you don’t know how, i could teach you. it’s more fun with someone else.”

“shoulda waited for your boy toy to come back from his errands, then.”

lisa doesn’t have to wait very long until sam eventually gives in, gets up from his seat and reluctantly grabs a pair of skates his size. he goes through the trouble of putting them on and tying them up slowly, to stall for time. finally, he makes his way over to the skate rink. this isn’t the first time he’s ever skated, but it certainly hasn’t been soon since the last time he has. lisa has a grip on him, with one hand holding his arm and another one on his back. he doesn't make a move, but he doesn't have to. lisa is skating and pushing sam along on the ice while his skates allow him to glide. she's doing all the work.

and he feels... good. it's still freezing. the bright lights overhead help, but it's still winter. but the feeling of a gentle breeze flowing through his messy hair is relaxing and puts him in a good mood. lisa nearly pulls away completely, but holds onto sam's wrist. "okay, turn when i do, alright? i'll take you in a circle. all you have to do is keep balance."

easy enough, he thinks. he may not be a professional skater but he can do that much. he allows lisa to pull him along and tries to put weight onto one side of his body to make it easier for them to go in that wide circle around the rink. after a while, he doesn't even have to think about it hard. it almost feels like he's flying.

and then, lisa lets go of him.

he obviously doesn't fall right away- he can still keep balance. and he knows how to turn, so he doesn't smash into any walls. but eventually, he loses momentum and is falling behind. "come on, sam! one foot in front of the other! watch me."

oh, sam's watching alright. 

he wishes she'd have worn a different outfit. 

(sam scudder is not a good man.)

his body feels hot as he tries to focus on his movement. her movement. he copies her and manages just fine. turns out, he doesn't need much to keep moving. it becomes a repetitive, comfortable pattern he falls into...

but he forgets to watch where he's going and crashes into the barrier, nearly flipping over it before he can catch himself. 

lisa laughs and laughs as she stops and allows herself to glide away. good job, sam, making a fool of yourself in front of lisa of all people. she skates back to his side and helps him stand up again. "that's good! that was so good, you were really getting the hang of it! you just need to focus on what's in front of you next time."

you were in front of me, he thinks. "how do you do those spins and twirls?" is what he says instead.

she grins, almost like a hungry tiger heard a really funny joke. lisa stands straight and grabs sam's arm again, pulling him towards the center. "it's more complicated than what we've been doing."

"you make it look easy."

lisa laughs again, and there's a bit of teasing as she speaks, "when did you get so nice?" 

god help me.

"would you rather me show you?"

sam shrugs. "i've been watching you all night."

"that's not what i meant."

she moves so that she stands directly in front of sam and reaches backward. he's looking at her confused for a moment until he gets it and reaches out. lisa grabs his wrists and pulls them close to rest on her waist. they're close enough that he can smell that familiar scent of her shampoo. she positions his arms around her snuggly and sam is doing his darndest to keep their bodies from touching. 

goddammit. roscoe is going to kill him.

lisa doesn't seem to be bothered. she's skating on, pulling sam along with her while he's rigid. "relax, sam. we're just going to twirl a bit. don't let go."

he doesn't. he holds on tights and prays for this to be over. but he doesn't close his eyes.

and he's glad he didn't, because lisa starts to slowly spin them in place and sam can see the lights of the city dance around him as if they're on a carousel. he relaxes against her, feeling the tickle of her long hair against his chin. 

lisa looks up at him with an award-winning smile; a smile so warm that sam forgets how cold he was before. "pretty great, isn't it?"

sam looks down at her, and feels something well up in his chest. "yeah. it is."

only on rare occasions does sam find himself alone with roscoe. that isn't to say that he avoids him or doesn't make the effort to talk to him, but between lisa being glued to roscoe's side and normally spending downtime with the rest of the rogues in a group setting, sam's never really found himself with just roscoe. not the most social guy of the bunch, but friendly enough with sam...

the two of them at the saloon, watching football while playing uno for cash isn't what sam would call an exciting "boy's night", but he's done with excitement for a month. a particularly scrappy heist that would've gone off without a hitch if the flash had left his sidekick at home. it left sam with a sprained ankle and a broken nose. (more broken than it was before, anyway.) he's been grumpy because of it, and part of the reason is that he feels antsy being left out of new heists even if he doesn't have the energy to take part anyway. his sour mood may have been the reason the others didn't bother to join him.

didn't scare off roscoe, though.

which, in a way, is odd to him considering roscoe doesn't often join the rogues at the saloon. nervously, sam chews his lip as he looks over at him over his cards. "what's lisa up to?" he cringes at himself, wondering if that seems too obvious. "usually you only come here when she's around. not that i blame you; this place is a shithole." 

roscoe's head tilts slightly as he looks up at sam. it's hard to see his eyes because of the glare on his glasses, and for some reason, that makes sam nervous. but roscoe offers an easy smile as he speaks. "she's out with piper and trickster."

"ah. girls night out?" 

roscoe smirks and nods his head once. "something like that. you know them."

he does. the three of them... natural-born performers. no doubt they're trading gossip or having discussions about their villainous routines and one-liners in the most theatrical way possible that the rest of the group can't hope to keep up with... when he thinks too long about it, he gets sad. all of them- a musician, an acrobat, and a figure skater- have always been so talented. and instead, they've all turned to gimmicky criminals with scumbags like the rest of the rogues. like sam.

(sam scudder is not a good man.)

he contemplates this and turns his attention to roscoe. a smart man. a handsome man. one of the smartest guys he knows on this side of the law. at least, definitely the most bookish.

roscoe catches sam looking and trying to look away when he gets caught. damn, his clever eyes. "can i help you, samuel?"

"it's sam. and... no, i was just thinkin'."

"uh oh. should i be worried?" (for that split second, sam thinks about knocking that smug look off of roscoe's face.)

"no, shut up for a second." he sighs and places his cards face down. "i was thinking about the theatre troupe, and how they don't belong here. with the rogues."

roscoe sits up slightly and frowns, seeming to take sam's words the wrong way. "lisa, hartley, and james can hold their own in a fight. they're important members--"

"no, no, that's not what i meant." sam rubs his forehead with the back of his hand and thinks quickly as he gathers his thoughts. "i mean... they're talented, right? they've got these other skills that are valuable. they can do better than this. probably make it big, in the big bad world out there without doing any crime. you know?" his eyes lock onto roscoe's. he's almost afraid to go on, but the feeling of warm booze and a fuzzy brain and loose lips encourage him to keep speaking. "then i got thinking about you. and how you're crazy levels of smart. you could have gone to school, gotten a degree. a phd, even, or been a real fancy scientist or professor. you do a lot of math and physics, so it'd be easy for you. it'd be better than getting beat up by the man in red every other tuesday, right?"

sam sits as still as the grave as he waits for roscoe's answer. he's regretting all those beers because the sight of roscoe of all people being taken off guard and confused has got sam's head spinning.

golly, did i do that?

then roscoe untenses and smiles to himself as he contemplates before finally looking back up. "i guess it's all up to the choices you're given at key moments in your life. people are willing to make hard choices when they feel cornered." something in sam's eyes must have convinced roscoe to go on further, despite an initial resistance that sam noticed. he abandons his cards and scoots closer to sam. their elbows touch and roscoe is close enough for sam to hear the low, careful voice roscoe speaks in. "i do think about that every now and again. the person i could have been. i could have gone to school, right? could have gotten a cushy job that i would have loved. something i'm really passionate about." he smiles a sad smile and shrugs though. "when i started all this, i was in a situation in my life where i didn't have a family to rely on or money to support myself."

sam can see a bittersweet look in roscoe's eye. his stomach turns. "i wasn't well, sam, and the world wasn't going to help me get better. why would i do the world any favours? it's given me nothing. it's given lisa nothing." suddenly, sam feels a gentle hand clasp around his wrist. when he looks down, he sees roscoe holding him there. his heart is throbbing in his chest and he looks up at the other man with wide eyes. "nothing but this family of ours, of course."

god, the look on sam's face must have looked so stupid in that moment. 

he tries to shake it off. that, and the scattered thoughts swimming around his head. "i just think you deserve better."

roscoe smiles. smiles real nicely, so that his eyes squint and make those smile lines that look so good on him.

christ, sam must have had more drinks than he thought. 

"thank you, samuel. i consider you a treasured friend."

and if he wasn't blushing bright red before...

"why do you call me that?" roscoe tilts his head. "why do you call me samuel? the rest of 'em call me sam. you can call me sam."

roscoe contemplates this for a moment. "it is formal, i suppose. more distinguished. it suits you. and only i call you that, so it feels more intimate." and then, a grin that sam doesn't know how to interpret. "and i like the way samuel feels on my tongue."

fuck.

he can't be thinking about lusting over the boyfriend of the woman he's been lusting over.

(sam scudder is not a good man.)

"i'm sorry. i can call you sam, if you want me to."

"no, no. samuel's alright. i don't actually care."

“are you sure?”

“yeah. i’m sure, it’s fine.”

roscoe’s hand lingers on sam for a second longer before he places it on his shoulder instead, squeezing the muscle below the back of his neck as he does. “i appreciate that.”

sam nods and focuses on the droplets of condensation on his beer as he takes a drink.

"how's your leg?"

sam looks up from his breakfast and newspaper (reheated dinner from the other night, actually) to see lisa in her pajamas. it's well past ten in the morning, but they're in-between scores and most of the rogues sleep in late. in fact, on these days, 10am is probably considered too early for the others to start waking up. "it's fine. i can walk with no trouble, but i probably shouldn't try running anytime soon." 

lisa turns her back to him as she pours herself a cup of coffee he started brewing earlier. her long blonde hair covers her back, but her bare shoulders just barely peek out from behind them. he's too busy thinking how isn't she freezing to think of anything he's been trying to keep out of his head. "you know, i heard a little movement is good for something like that. kind of like physical therapy, you know?"

"what, so you're saying i should start running laps around the lair?"

sam hears a smile in her voice. "no. i meant like taking a stroll, or dancing a little."

now he knows she's kidding. "dancing?"

lisa turns around, holding her mug of coffee with both hands. "why not? it's good exercise. and it's fun."

fun with your boyfriend, maybe. sam eyes his food while pushing it around with his fork, uninterested. "nice try, princess. i don't dance."

"oh, you don't? just like you don't skate?" sam glowers at lisa's triumphant grin, looking so smug over her comeback. she has a point, but it's not happening either way. last time, it was just the two of them. sam's not desperate enough to make an utter fool of himself in a communal living space. plus, roscoe's just down the hall if he's still sleeping...

(but it's okay if it's just innocent dancing, right?)

no. no!

sometime during his inner battle against his libido, lisa took the spot across from him at the table. "are you okay, sammy?"

sammy.

fucking sammy.

god, she's such a girly girl.

god, she's gorgeous.

when sam swallows the lump in his throat, it feels like cotton. "m'fine. i just don't want to dance."

"it might help with more than just your leg. you've been hanging around inside doing jackshit for weeks while you heal." she nods to herself as she takes a drink, thinking. "you've definitely been acting pissier lately. you've been couped up. you need to get moving or your mood's going to get worse. len might kick you out if you get any pissier..."

sam wishes he could be mad at her. she's leaning over the table and sam isn't looking down. 

she's going to get her way, and she knows it. 

lisa eventually ends up pulling sam by the arm to her room. the bed is made, but roscoe is nowhere to be seen. sam bites his lip, nervous and uncertain. he doesn't want to ask where he is, on the off chance that he's misinterpreting anything or assuming too much. he doesn't want to give himself away or act suspicious, even though lisa's the one who dragged him here. 

they're just going to dance.

it doesn't matter if roscoe walks in on them, because they're just dancing. 

lisa combs her hair back as she puts on I Wanna Dance With Somebody by Whitney Houston. when she turns around dramatically to face sam with her shoulders bouncing along to the beat, he's smiling too. 

sam dances as stiffly as any old man who really doesn't want to dance, and lisa is dancing wildly like it's the first and last time she'll ever get to move. and maybe that brings out the wild in sam. he pulls her closer and quite literally sweeps her off her feet. 

she squeals and wraps her arms around his shoulders as he spins her around while turning her in his grip, choreographed to the music. "hey! sam, ohmigod, where'd you learn how to do that?"

"i took dance classes up until i was sixteen."

lisa throws her head back as she laughs, almost cackling while she fights to keep her grip on sam, causing her to instinctively wrap her legs around his. "scudder, you are something else! you surprise me every time i learn something new about you!"

his body feels hot. most notably, his face. at this point, he's caught her laughter and feels like he's flying high.

the feeling crashes down when he notices roscoe watching at the door. fresh from the shower, he stands there in nothing but a pair of track pants, hair wet and face bare. his arms are crossed and he has an expression that's too casual for sam to feel like he isn't going to get his ass beat.

sam immediately sets lisa down. he doesn't dare look at her, and instead guilty looks in roscoe's direction. his face is hot in shame and he feels like a child who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar-

he's a rogue, goddammit. he shouldn't be feeling this way. 

and maybe he wouldn't be if he didn't like roscoe so much.

"hey roscoe." lisa says coolly, sounding like she's not worried about this development at all. "i brought in sam for a dance." if she's nervous, she certainly doesn't sound like she is. sam, on the other hand, probably looks exactly how he feels.

roscoe still doesn't say anything. instead, he strolls over with a hand in his pocket over to sam. when he's close enough, roscoe places the back of his hand on sam's face. "are you alright, samuel? you don't so good."

"it's okay, sammy." lisa tries to soothe sam by squeezing his upper arm. 

sam scudder is not a good man. but roscoe dillon is his friend.

"roscoe, i-" his jaw is trembling and he tries to look up at roscoe without making direct eye contact. because he is a coward. "i'm so sorry, i-"

roscoe's hand falls from sam's forehead and instead cups his jaw, holding it in place firmly. it's only then, does he realize how close roscoe had gotten. he can smell him- lisa's shampoo. (he shudders.) in a soft voice, roscoe hushes him and says, "you don't need to apologize."

sam can't comprehend what's going on at that moment. he feels like he's going to be eaten alive, and the only thing grounding him is the hot touch of roscoe's hand on his face and lisa rubbing circles onto his back. 

he feels like he's floating, now...

"do you fancy me, samuel?"

the question catches him off guard. he blinks slowly and lets his mouth hang open like an idiot, trying to find his words. "i. huh?"

roscoe's thumb, firm and dexterous, brushes against sam's stubble. "i said, do you fancy me?

"you're my friend, roscoe."

"just a friend?"

he feels lisa's slender arms around him and for a second, he wonders if he's dreaming. but out of all the wondering and daydreaming, thinking about lisa, and thinking about roscoe... sam's never thought about lisa and roscoe. it almost seems selfish.

"what about me, sammy?" he feels lisa's hot breath on his ear, and his whole body shivers. her chin rests on his shoulder. "we're friends too, right?"

"of course." his voice feels so small.

"are you okay, sammy?" he has to turn his head to meet lisa's kind expression. soft, like she's afraid she'll break him with any other look. he's grateful for that. he just hopes he doesn't look as fragile as he feels. all he can do is nod dumbly.

but roscoe pulls sam's head back to look straight ahead and holds sam's face with both hands this time. "no, really. are you okay, samuel?" roscoe puts emphasis on the question, and by some miracle, sam gets it: he's asking for permission. 

"i just." he struggles to speak despite his dry throat. "i care about you two so much. i don't- i can't get in the way of that."

lisa hums. "you aren't."

roscoe places a thumb on sam's bottom lip. "you wouldn't."

"god, help me."

this pulls a chuckle out of roscoe, and sam laughs too; at the absurdity of the situation he's found himself in. 

roscoe holds sam's face still as he kisses him hot enough that an imprint of it sears its way into sam's heart. his knees give out, but lisa is holding him firmly, pushing him up against roscoe to keep him from falling.

when he pulls away, roscoe isn't looking at sam the way he thought he'd look at him after they'd kiss. sam always imagined that roscoe would look triumphant. like he'd just conquered something. instead, he looks at sam dreamily. the way he looks at lisa.

that is... a lot to take in.

thankfully, roscoe and lisa help sam sit down on their bed. he tries to think of something to say before lisa promptly straddles his lap and kisses him like he's a breath of fresh air. like she's been waiting a long time for it.

a lot to take in, indeed.

by the time she pulls away, lisa is out of breath and smiling wide. she looks happy. she looks excited. sam feels like his head is going to pop. lisa holds his face and laughs. "sorry. sorry, sorry we cornered you like that."

roscoe has a lighthearted smile. he stands with his arms crossed, watching the two of them on the bed. "it wasn't what we had in mind. in regards to confronting you, i mean."

"roscoe wanted to wait until valentine's day."

"that was your idea, actually."

"i didn't mean to mess up the plan."

a plan?

sam sits there, dumbfounded. the two are lightyears ahead of sam. "wait, wait, you... both of you? you guys- and me?"

roscoe finally sits down next to sam and places his hand on the small of his back. "yes. lisa and i both like you very much. we have for awhile. and we noticed your fondness for us. we should have been more direct, i'm sorry."

lisa sits comfortably on sam's lap with her head on his shoulder and arms around his torso. "is it too much?"

"no no. i'm." sam swallows thickly and looks at the two of them. lisa and roscoe. the rogues' very own power couple, looking at sam scudder with care and concern. he laughs nervously. "i just don't understand."

"what do you mean, samuel?"

"i'm a bad person."

they look between each other, surprised at first but their expressions quickly soften.

"sam." lisa says softly, carding her slender fingers through his hair. "hey, i get it. i'm not going to sit here and try to convince you that you're not a bad person."

"not when we can hardly convince ourselves that." roscoe murmurs as his gaze is elsewhere.

"but you better listen to me when i say that shit doesn't matter."

"bad or no, you're still worthy of love."

sam's heart nearly leaps out of his throat. he chuckles softly as tears well up in his eyes. "you two..."

lisa smiles brightly. "we're pretty great, huh?"

"you're both too good for me."

"no, samuel." roscoe turns to face the two of them and presses a hand flat down on sam's chest. he pushes sam, and by proxy lisa, down on the bed. and he follows suit beside them. "none of us are better or worse than each other. we're just here for each other." he pauses. "if you'll have us."

for the first time in a long time, sam's heart feels light as he lays next to these two. they're my family, and i trust them.

"yeah. yeah, okay."

"yeah?" lisa asks, full of hope.

"yeah."

it takes all of his courage, but sam combs his fingers through lisa's long hair and tugs her in for an excited kiss, and then pulls at roscoe for a firm kiss. each of their arms tangle around each other, and they spend the rest of their day holed up in their room. safe, under the home they've made for each other.

sam scudder is not a good man, and thank god he doesn't have to be.