okaY so ConSider ThIs–Mick’s medical skills probably aren’t half bad.
Like Len said, Mick’s always been the muscle to Len’s brains, and that means more often than not, Mick is the one coming home with the injuries, which he usually had to treat himself–Len isn’t an option, because as clever as he is with his hands, Len doesn’t really do gentle with anyone other than his sister (and sometimes not even then), and as a general rule, Mick doesn’t like to be touched by anyone that he doesn’t know and trust . So he had to learn to administer medical treatment to himself. He’s not a brain surgeon, but he’s about as good as someone who’s self-taught can be. He knows how to check for a concussion and internal bleeding, how to stitch up an injury and deal with infection, and has a grasp of basic pain relief. (He also probably knows how to deal with bullet wounds pretty capably as well).
Mick doesn’t really like to advertise these skills–they’re helpful when he needs them, absolutely. That’s 99% of the reason why he cultivated them, but this particular skillset is distinctly removed from the version of himself that he likes to project. Now, he doesn’t hide them either, but the ship can treat most other injuries, so really he doesn’t see much point in utilizing them when they’re unnecessary.
Ray is the first to find out. Mick had meant it, after the gulag, when he’d said that they were even, and was personally content to leave it at that. But Ray’s medical (and self preservation) sensibilities are terrible, and even though practically all his ribs are broken from that damn sledgehammer, his solution is to just go “eh, I’ll just bandage them and get back to work,” because that’s how they deal with broken ribs in movies and stuff, right? Wrap bandages around them and troop on? Ray just makes the mistake of asking Mick for a hand bandaging them. Ray winces immediately after, intimidated by the force of Mick’s glare, and pretty sure Mick is going to refuse his request for help on the spot. He did not expected Mick to sigh in irritation because for fuck’s sake, sure, if you wanna die of pneumonia. Instead, Mick does a quick check–running his hands along Ray’s ribs, trying to ensure that none of them are in danger of puncturing a lung. Then, he firmly steers Ray into bed and gives him painkillers, as well as stern instructions to rest. The rest of the crew coos at this, though Mick maintains that he was not doing a nice thing, he was just preventing an act of egregious idiocy. No one actually believes him.
Sara is next. She does not get injured so often anymore (I mean, it does happen, but more often than not she emerges from ridiculously dangerous situations utterly unscathed, a skill of which the rest of the crew is very envious). But her old wounds might as well be fresh ones, some days–there was no time for proper healing on Lian Yu, and certainly not as a member of the League of Assassins, where you either got up and kept fighting or were left for dead. As a result, many of her old wounds still pain her–a knot of scar tissue just under her arm that aches fiercely when it rains, a knee that hurts to move when she overexerts herself (which is hard, but not impossible). Before joining the Legends crew, she would have masked her pain. She’s gone years just gritting her teeth and pushing her way through. But the more time that passes with the team, the less her instincts tell her to hide the pain–the more comfortable she is letting herself be seen at her weakest. Now, on her worst days, after particularly brutal battles, she’ll give up on it altogether, and limp through the Waverider to collapse on the couch (yes, the Waverider has a living room, because I say so). Now, the team will all try to comfort her in their own ways. Jax and Ray will sit on the other side of the table and play board games with her. Stein tries to replicate Clarissa’s mac and cheese (he cannot, but the effort is thoroughly appreciated), Rip will quietly postpone their next mission, and Len offers comfort as non-obtrusively as he can. But Mick? Mick shows with a heat compress and a liniment for her knee and some advice–(lay on your side and put a pillow between your legs, it will straighten your spine and take the pressure of your injury) from old injuries of his own.
Jax (and by extension, Stein) find out the extent of Mick’s medical expertise in the field, when Jax takes a bullet in the side. He’s hemorrhaging fast, flames flickering out as he unfuses with Stein, who looks so worried that a heartattack may be a legitimate risk. They’re far from the ship–but not from a nearby medical clinic. Before the rest of the team can process what’s going on, Mick is pressing a jacket (requisitioned from Snart) to Jax’s side, and rushing him into the clinic, where one of the doctor’s takes over. That should be the end of it, but Mick has had more than his fair share of bullet wounds, and backseat drives the fuck out of that medical procedure, because there’s no need to be so rough, doc and if I’d wanted him to bleed out I would have left him out there, jesus and basically just glares and intimidates until the doctor, in frustration, pushes the tools into Mick’s hands, because “you do it, then!”. Mick shrugs, and does the job more neatly and efficiently than the doctor could have hoped (much to the man’s chagrin).
After that, the rest of the crew starts coming to him for everything. For such a violent, large person, Mick is surprisingly delicate when treating injuries, with a feather-light touch. Most of the crew discovers that they prefer being treated by Mick (who tries to avoid causing them pain, and who is almost sympathetic when he has to) than they do Gideon in the medbay. Kendra gets a cut on her leg while sparring? She’ll hop, leg dripping, to his room and knock on the door–”Hey Mick, can you take a look at this for me?”
Stein thinks his back is acting up again? “Mr. Rory, would you mind terribly advising me on this?”
Even Rip gets in on it, though he argues that its because when he’s injured, he likes being able to receive treatment in the comfort of his own quarters.
Every time, Mick grumbles, don’t you guys have Gideon for this? I thought this ship was from the future–. But every time, he takes a look at it, because he just knows that if he refuses they’ll just stand there looking sad and mopey, before limping off to the medbay, and for fuck’s sake, he’s not heartless (and maybe he likes knowing that he can use his hands for something other than destruction, but that’s another beast altogether)
TL;DR–consider Mick Rory, entirely against his will, becoming the team medic (and sighing because, damn, if he doesn’t step up, these idiots are all gonna die.)
(PS, let it be noted that, inevitably, there may be some basis in batmanisagatewaydrug’s headcanons in here, particularly her headcanons about Sara’s old injuries causing her pain, because her headcanons are so good that I can’t help but think of them as ingratiated into canon.)
Believe it or not, this entire idea came to me after seeing a picture of people at a Neon Splash paint party. I have no idea how it morphed into … this. It just sort of happened. This piece is dedicated to effie214, because she makes me laugh and has an uncanny way of encouraging me at just the right moments.
Life is a free fall, Felicity thinks; an endless spinning drop through a momentary eternity. Some people fight the weightlessness, terrified by the knowledge that nothing falls forever, and they must eventually collide with something; others embrace the freedom of it all, laughing and grasping at clouds as they go.
Felicity prefers to build her wings on the way down, and hang suspended in the moments of impact.
She is twenty-one, and her girlfriend has persuaded her, through unfair means, to go to a paint party. Neon Splash has come to Starling City, and Sara has made it clear that Felicity doesn’t have a choice in attending. They are going, and they’re going to have a great time, and she should just accept it already.
In truth, Felicity thinks it sounds like fun. She has never been to a paint party but Sara is so excited that she can’t resist teasing her. Felicity pretends to groan and protest, and Sara answers by threatening to throw her computers out the window if she doesn’t go.
Sara’s threats are mostly hollow, of course. One of the things she loves about Felicity is that she’s generally up for a good time – as long it doesn’t involve hurting anyone. Sara also knows that Felicity is about the furthest thing away from the grumpy old lady persona she’s adopted to tease her, so she just smiles and enjoys the game.
They are having lunch with Sara’s family the afternoon of the paint party. Felicity has lived in the city for just a few months and knows Detective Lance by reputation, but she has never met her girlfriend’s family. She knows that Sara is nervous – her family doesn’t know that she’s dating a woman, or even that she would want to date a woman – so Felicity fills the hours before the meal with laughter. She doesn’t care if the Lance’s know who she is to Sara, because she isn’t there for them, and she makes sure to remind Sara of that.
Still, Sara is nervous. When they pull into the parking lot behind the diner that the Lance family frequents, she kisses Felicity with an almost desperate affection.