sorry sara i tried

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.)


“And her over by the soda machine. Yeah, twice.”

“Okay, that’s Noelle. She’s not even gay.”

“Well, she was that night.”


Happy 35th birthday, Tegan and Sara!

Let Me Come Home (Home Is When I'm Alone with You)

Pairing(s): Olicity

Rating: M (there be sexy times, well at least I hope it comes off sexy)

Word Count: 4320

Audio: Inspiration from this song




Growing up Felicity Smoak never really understood the term “home”.

People told her that home was warm, comforting, and a place where you belonged. When her third grade teacher, Mrs. Stevens, asked the class to write a description of what their home was like, all the other boys and girls talked about their mommies and daddies and siblings and pets and the big houses they lived in with white picket fences and swing sets in their backyards. They talked about teasing their siblings and how their moms would kiss their booboos and their dads would play sports with them. Felicity didn’t write about that. She didn’t write about anything. It was the only time throughout her many years of education that she didn’t turn in an assignment.


Keep reading

The In Between Times: Girl Time

This is just a one-shot in my continued series, “The In-Between Times”. Rest of my stories are here:

Note: Takes place between 2x13 and 2x14.

Girl Time

Felicity kicked off her ballet flats and curled her legs into her chair. It was a sad statement on her life, but the best part of weekends, lately, was the ability to wear jeans to her “other job”. She knew that sitting on her feet was bad for her joints and posture, but it was the weekend.  If her rebellions had to be limited to Saturday and Sunday, so be it.

 Oliver and Diggle were out at a campaign function. Oliver had taken one look at Felicity chewing her lip and promptly excused her from having to attend. It wasn’t that she was afraid of Moira Queen, Felicity told herself. It’s just that, well, there was only so long she could deal with the dagger-edged glances. Oliver hadn’t asked her to come in and scroll through more CCTV footage for the man in the skull mask or his known associates, but she’d felt obligated.  They’d been so distracted by the escape of the Bronze Tiger and Sara’s return that their hunt for Starling’s elusive villain had been neglected.

 She tapped keys listlessly, not entirely focused on her task.  There was only so long one could stare at video of bus stops and loading docks before faces started to blur together. In another window, the IT genius brought up the live TV broadcast of Moira’s latest community outreach activity. Behind his mother, Oliver smiled at all the right times and shook all the right hands. He might look like the dutiful son, but the strain he was under was obvious to Felicity.

 “Who does he think he’s fooling?”

 The softly spoken question, asked right over her freaking shoulder, made Felicity jerk in alarm.  She actually squealed like a startled pig and tried to jump to her feet at the same time. Her feet tangled, sending her toppling toward the metal work table. A pale, small, but muscular, arm shot out and grabbed her before her head could do more than glance off the edge.

“Whoa, sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.”

 “Sara? Gah!” Felicity tried to stand up straight.  Her cheek smarted enough to bring tears to her eyes. She gave up any semblance of dignity—not that there was much left to be had—and slid to sit on the floor.  “I swear I’m going to tie bells to you and Oliver BOTH. Not all of us have crazy ninja powers of perception, ok?”

Sara’s mouth quirked in an appropriate pose of regret, but her eyes twinkled with a hint of humour. She gracefully folded her legs and sat in front of Felicity. “Sorry. Why are you down here all alone?”

Still rubbing her cheek with one hand, Felicity waved her other hand toward her computers.  “The usual: tracking some badass so Oliver can go arrow him.”

Sara’s head cocked to one side.  “Arrow?”

“It sounds better than “shoot”… in my head, anyway.  What’s up? Is someone in trouble?  Detective Lance?  Laurel?  Your mom?”

“They’re all fine.  You know my dad isn’t a detective anymore.”

“And I’m not an IT professional anymore either.  That doesn’t seem to stop me from doing what I do best. Your dad could be employed by a grocery store, he’d still be a detective.”

Sara’s smile lit up her face. “I really do like you.”

“Oh good. I don’t need any more enemies.”

Sinuously rising, Sara held out a hand to pull Felicity to her feet.  “Have you eaten?”

“No.  Digg usually brings back Big Belly Burgers.”

“I brought take-out from a great Mandarin place I know.”

Felicity inhaled deeply.  “I think I love you.”

“I get that a lot,” Sara giggled.

“Oh, uh, I didn’t mean… not that it’s a problem but I wouldn’t want to lead you on. Not that you would be interested in me when you’ve got…” Blushing profusely, Felicity groaned.  “Oliver told you about my rambling, right?”

 “No!”  The other woman laughed hysterically.  “Maybe he’s so used to it he doesn’t notice.”

“Ha!”  Felicity took another deep breath.  “Oh that smells so good.  Let me find the chopsticks.  I know we had some in a drawer…” She spun around the lab, muttering to herself, while Sara cleared a worktable. By the time Felicity located napkins and chopsticks, the food was neatly arranged.

They ate in silence for several minutes until Sara caught one of Felicity’s furtive glances. “Do I have cabbage on my face?”

“No. Sorry. I have questions.”

Sensing the changed mood, Sara nodded. “Go ahead.”

“Are you staying?”

“The League won’t be hunting me now. Oliver said he needed my help.  I thought I’d stay as long as there’s work to be done.”

“That’d be forever,” Felicity noted wryly.  Her blue eyes narrowed.  “You’re staying for Oliver?”

“Not that way. He’s not the boy I snuck onto the Queen’s Gambit to be with.  He’s not even the man I knew on the island. I’m not that same person either.  We weren’t good for each other to begin with. I’d rather be his partner than his lover.” She swallowed a few bites, trying to keep her expression neutral.  Her finely honed instincts told her that mentioning her previous night’s tryst with Oliver wasn’t a good idea.

“Don’t hurt him.” Felicity’s expression was fierce.  “I know I can’t scare you or threaten you.  I know I’m no danger to you. But, please don’t disappear on him. He keeps getting hurt by the people he cares about most.”

Sara reached over to squeeze Felicity’s hand.  “I’ll try.”


Before the silence could grow awkward, Sara asked, “How did he recruit you to his crusade?”

The more Felicity told Sara about her early encounters with Oliver Queen, the harder the former assassin laughed. Twenty minutes later, when they were halfway down the stairs, Oliver and Diggle stared at the two giggling women.

Sara squealed “He actually said “I ran out of sports bottles”? With a straight face?”

Diggle groaned. “Uh, I left something in the car, in Afghanistan.” He turned and took the stairs two at a time.

Oliver just stood there, head cocked, trying to understand the collision of his worlds taking place right before his eyes. Their laughter was infectious.  He couldn’t help smiling. Hands shoved in his pockets, he affected a casual stroll across the floor.


“Hi Ollie,” Sara chirped.  With her chopsticks, she pointed toward Felicity. “Felicity’s been telling me all about your adventures.”

“Oh really?”  He turned his head to look fondly down on his partner. “Did she—“ He sucked air through his teeth as his hand flashed out.  With firm but gentle fingers he tilted Felicity’s chin to better see the bruise on her cheek.  “What happened?”  His voice was soft, meant only for her.

“Oh. I forgot all about that.  Is it noticeable to anyone but you?”

“Felicity,” he sighed. “Who did this?”

Felicity reached up and lightly squeezed the fingers still holding her chin.  “It’s nothing Oliver, really.  I did it to myself.  You know I’m a clutz.”

Sara watched the interplay between them. She’d already suspected that Felicity had feelings for Oliver, but now she realized that Oliver also cared deeply for his blonde friend.

Oliver released Felicity but didn’t step back.  He smiled at both of them, even reaching out to squeeze Sara’s shoulder.  “It’s good to hear you laugh again.”

“Which one of us?”

 Face illuminated with a smile he reserved only for those closest to him, Oliver replied. “Both of you.”