The Rogues weren´t metas. It wasn´t a fact they´d print on business cards (not that they had any), put in a cv (not that they ever used one that wasn´t faked anyway) or something to be extraordinarily proud of. It was just this: a fact. Nevertheless, it was so satisfying to point out that they had beaten the Flash - the fastest man alive, a superhero with nothing than brains, teamwork and witty (punny) banter.
They were average joes.
Well, late at night, drunk and feeling philosophical, they speculated about powers; what they would do with powers, how different their lives might have been and what superpower they would like to have if they had to choose.
Most of their power-wishes were related to their gadgets (except for Roscoe who wanted telepathy), they agreed that with their powers they would live their lives exactly as they did now, maybe irritating the Flash a bit more, and at that point they either moved on to new topics, poker, more booze or some of their less intelligent activities (which, in the past, had included, prank calls, smearing graffiti on the townshall and on one spectacular occassion, starting on a trip to Disneyland in a stolen limousine).
James didn´t have any powers. He was just smart and a tad arrogant about it. Piper disagreed. James had one infuriating superpower: he had the uncanny ability to make everything he wore look good.
For god´s sake, the man ran around in striped, bright, colorful spandex, and still managed to look amazing. Piper didn´t dare to imagine what James would look like if he actually cared about his appearance. (At least, he didn´t imagine it too often. The thoughts of James in a tux, or a pair of jeans and only that, or maybe swim wear, proved to be extremely distracting.)
Piper was insanely jealous. He himself knew that his fashion choices were a bit ...extravagant or eccentric, but at least when he wore funny outfits, people didn´t pay him attention. James however....James could have worn an old burlap sack and still would have received lots of appreciative looks.
Which was why trying to go undercover with James was a disaster.
They were at a party for the richest patrons of the museum, posing as French art experts. James even had an incredible sexy fake French accent...bastard. While James spent his time basking in attention and worship, twirling a champagne flute and smiling beatifically, Piper spent it sweating, glancing nervously around and feeling uncomfortable. They tried to keep their interaction to a minimum, but they had to exchange important information now and then and re-discuss their plan. And so, people started noticing Piper more. And that was not a good sign.
Maybe some people would recognize him, he was after all the heir to the Rathaway fortune and had been forced to attend events like this.
Even if he wore a wig and violet sunglasses, this was still a dangerous situation. And James drawing attention to him didn´t help at all - James, wth his smiles, golden hair, blue eyes, impressive figure, dressed in a tux - it was infuriating.
"Lighten up, mon frère, this is a party. No need to look that grim," James said to him, leaning at a pillar next to the bar. Piper downed his martini.
"That´s easy to say for you. People keep staring. I think they´re getting suspicious."
"Nonsense, you´re too paranoid" he leaned in and whispered in Piper´s ear, "I stole five wallets, managed to get insider information for the stock market and even know about a rigged horse race. This evening is going along smoothly. Relax."
How could Piper relax, with James being up in his personal space (not that James had ever known what personal space was, or so it seemed), whispering into his ear, still speaking with that damn fake French sexy accent and being so incredibly handsome...
Oh crap. People were staring. And now people were talking. He could hear them. Then someone noticed a missing wallet, and people were still staring, and
"Mon frère, I think we should leave. Swiftly," Piper added.
"I am inclined to acquiesce your request."
And they ran, easily evading their pursuers and security.
They caught their breath in an alleyway, panting, Piper almost doubled over, while James still grinned and looked so handsome.
"Oh god, I hate you sometimes," Piper said between gulps of air.
"Why that? This was a nice evening."
"Nice? We got chased by a small mob!"
"So?! SO?! I can´t believe it. This is all your fault! If you weren´t so damn handsome, people wouldn´t always be staring at us!"
"Whoa, wait - you´re mad at me for being...handsome?"
"Yes," Piper replied, fully knowing how stupid he sounded.
James was silent for a few moments. Then a grin that reached both his ears appeared on his face. "I can live with that. It´s like a superpower, is it not?"
Piper stared at him. "You are unbelievable."
"I know," James said, somehow managing to look even more handsome, buttons of his shirt halfway undone, hair tousled and a faint flush of color on his cheeks. And the mischief burning in his eyes. "Let´s go get some food, I´m starving."
"They had oudevres at the party," Piper pointed out.
"I hate that fancy food; what´s the deal about eating fish eggs anway? No, my friend, there will be pizza. Delicious, crisp, mouth-watering pizza."
Piper followed him. Apparently James´ powers of attraction didn´t only include attention, it worked on Piper´s whole body.
Later that night, they sat in a pizzeria, laughing, sharing a prosciutto funghi and James pulled not five, but six wallets out of his tux (he had robbed a security guard on their way out), two necklaces, one very expensive brooch and three sets of car keys.
To hell with all that no-powers business; Piper was fairly sure that James was simply magical