Coldflash and Legends One-Shots

Choosing Destiny (Rated PG13)

Summary:

At age 18, teenagers get to choose their future. Whatever they want to be for the rest of their lives. Literally their life's work, since they'll pass on when it's done. Leonard Snart has the potential to be great, but his choice has already been made for him. But if he could choose for himself, he'd pick Barry and happiness. The choice he makes, Barry also has to live with.
...
So what will Barry's choice be?

Notes:

Written for the Coldflash Bingo 2019 prompt 'free' since it incorporated high school au and hurt comfort and magical, but it was more dystopia than all these combined. Also based off this prompt - http://snarkysnartes.tumblr.com/post/183076601380/writing-prompt-s-when-you-turn-18-you-have-to

***

"Come on, Lenny. Hurry it up. I haven't got all day."

Len peers up with seething slowness at the counselor sitting across from him, reclining in his chair with his feet propped up on the desk, the heels of his loafers denting the edge of Len's paper.

"You act like I'm choosing my favorite ice cream flavor, Mr. Cummings," Len growls, returning to the packet on the table in front of him – a comprehensive list of the future careers the world has to offer. It's a sick joke to him, really, since he knows there's only one choice for him. As much as he loathes it, he's going to have to choose it.

There's too much riding on it.

"You've literally had your whole life to make this decision," Mr. Cummings counters with a cruel grin. "So make your choice and be on your way."

Mr. Cummings knows Len's current predicament. Everyone knows. And even though it's widely acknowledged that it sucks, very few people have any sympathy for him.

For Lewis Snart's son.

Len hasn't made any decisions yet, good or bad, and he's already suffering for the sins of his father.

"Eighteen years isn't life enough to choose what I'm supposed to do with the next eighty. And what if I don't wanna live that long?"

"Then choose something dangerous, and you could be gone tomorrow."

"Lucas Alexander Cummings!" a stern voice scolds from the doorway. "What do you think you're doing?"

Mr. Cummings pops up in his chair, toppling it to the side in his haste to stand up. "Uh ... Mrs. Danvers!" He scrambles to his feet. "I didn't see you. I didn't know you were ... what can I do for you?"

"Mr. Cummings, as an occupational counselor, you're not here to insult our students. You're here to help guide them in their choices."

"That's ... that's what I was doing, Mrs. Danvers. Wasn't I, Mr. Snart?" He turns nervously to Len, begging with his eyes for help. But Len rolls his eyes and goes back to his paperwork.

"You're on your own with this one, Luke-y. I've taken up too much of your time already, remember?"

"Go see h.r., Mr. Cummings," Mrs. Danvers says. "You're dismissed."

"But ... but I can't be dismissed! Counselor is my designation! I chose it at age 18!"

"You're right. And you'll still be a counselor. No one can take that away from you. Just not here. And if I have anything to say about it, not around children. Now go."

"No, I ... but, I ..." the man pleads, but one look at the principal's face makes her position on the subject clear. He drops his shoulders and accepts defeat. "Yes, Mrs. Danvers. Right away."

Len keeps his eyes glued to the pages in front of him while Mr. Cummings gathers his things and heads out the door. Normally, he'd gloat, but he doesn't have it in him.