Chapter Text
Sara was good at many things, most of them deadly. Anything could be made into a weapon and that was especially true for emotions—and guilt was the best one of all. Sara was good at sniffing out guilt and Snart was drowning in it. When a man was blinded by regrets and guilt, they lost the ability to see what was right in front of them and that made it extremely easy to take them down.
Partnerships have a natural balance even as the power oscillates between the players. She understood that; it left room for growth but if things went too far, the partnership would be in danger of breaking apart. It was at times like these that the quickest and safest way to restore order was to reset the partners back to their original roles.
She paid a brief visit to Mick Rory and reminded him that Snart had been a loyal friend to him, that when Leonard thought he might be dying, he had comforted himself by recounting how he had met Mick. She knew these words would make Mick think about Snart and his thoughts would be filled with those same memories. He would remember how he, too, had felt at that moment he’d decided to befriend a stranger in need.
Next, she talked to Snart and made a quick dig into his open wound of guilt. She followed up with a simple challenge that he needed to man up and make it right with Mick. It hardly took any effort at all. Men like these were physical beings. One way or another, the rift would be dealt with and they could all get back to the mission.
***
Equal parts of wild hope and disbelief filled Mick when Snart proposed they fight man to man to settle their differences. He quickly agreed to it because his desire to hurt Snart was nearly blinding; he needed to hurt him as much as he was hurting. They traded blows at first and Mick matched the power of the punches he threw with those that landed, but soon that wasn’t enough. His anger flooded out and he quickly landed punch after punch until Snart was on his back nearly insensible. Seeing Snart beaten and bloody jarred him and he couldn’t help but be reminded of the first time he’d seen him so, when he’d made the decision to get involved and he pulled a pack of vicious punks off the new kid who had had the misfortune to be both small and pretty.
Lying quietly, Snart stared up at him, his expression devoid of anger or hatred with only a calm acceptance of his fate. Mick saw only pain and blood and then the slighter man lifted his chin, baring his throat in an instinctive display of surrender that stilled Mick’s next blow, freezing his fist in mid-strike. He’d spent years protecting Snart and had been hurt beyond measure that his partner, his friend would discard him in favor of a bunch of do-gooders he’d just met. But suddenly all he could see was Lenny lying there, needing to be saved again. Frozen with the shock, he stared in horror at Snart’s ruined face and fell backwards, away from what he’d done.
There had been only one person he’d ever valued or cared about and he was lying broken on the floor, a physical embodiment of how Mick felt inside. He knew he didn’t want to kill Snart; even the revenge he’d spent long hours fantasizing about always had Snart alive at the end. If Snart was dead he couldn’t hurt like Mick hurt.
“We had a deal, Mick. Kill me and you walk. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To get off the team,” Snart reminded him, his voice trailing off weaker than at the start.
Was that bastard encouraging Mick to kill him? Fuck that! Mick was tired of being told what to do; he was his own man, damnit. Like a bubble bursting, the burning compulsion to hunt and kill dissipated with a pop. Mick shook his head at the sudden peacefulness in his head and the complete lack of the obsessive drive that had filled him . “I don’t know what I want any more. The truth is it doesn’t matter.”
“What are you talking about?” Snart whispered, even now willing to help Mick figure something out.
“Whether I stay or leave, I’m dead. We’re all dead.” He stared at Snart and knew he didn’t want him dead and now that his longtime partner was in front of him, Mick didn’t want to die either. Well, that made it simple. Someone else was gonna have to die if it wasn’t gonna be them.
He pushed himself to his feet and hooked Snart by his upper arm, pulling him up along with him. Snart cried out in pain but that was alright. He owed Mick. “Come on. I need to tell the rest of the clown car crew something and you need to hear it, too.”
It was a short walk to the bridge and Snart tried his best to keep up even though he couldn’t straighten up entirely. Mick must have cracked a few ribs so instead of dumping Snart hard to the floor, he pushed him towards a panel he could lean against as Mick continued on to confront Rip. The rest of the crew was there and Mick snarled to see not a one spared Snart a concerned glance. They just stared warily at Mick and waited. Might as well get started.
“Since I failed to bring you in, the Time Masters want to bring me in. And this time, they aren’t going to take any chances. They’re called the Hunters. They’re mercenaries and unlike me, there isn’t a human part left in them.”
“So they want to lock us all up in the Vanishing Point,” Palmer asked.
“The Hunters do one thing: Kill. Whenever, wherever. They’ll stop at nothing until every single one of us is erased from the face of history.”
“Do you have any suggestions as to how we might outsmart them, Mr. Rory?” asked Rip and it wasn’t just Mick’s imagination that there was now a touch of respect to his tone. Nice.
“Run,” he growled. Let them stew on that for a while.
He stopped before he left the room and turned, scowling at each of occupants. They stared back. None of them had moved to help Snart or even ask if he needed help. Snart still leaned painfully against the wall where Mick had dumped him. Without a word, Mick walked back to Snart and grabbed him by the upper arm, pulling him with him as left. No one questioned it, no one protested.
“I can’t say I’m impressed with the team,” he scoffed as he opened to the door to his old room. He pushed Snart onto his bed and watched as he caught his descent enough to slowly, painfully lay himself down.
“Does it hurt?” Mick asked, stepping up to the bed to tower over Snart.
“Yes.” The word was said with the least effort possible but it still caused Snart to wince.
“Does each breath bring fresh pain?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You stay here and you remember I did this to you but I stopped short of killing you as was my right. Every ache, every pain is payment for the hell I went through. Let’s hope my desire for vengeance fades along with your bruises, eh?”
He continued to stare at Snart, laying complacent in his bed, under his control again and felt his anger weaken. This was right. Snart was his again. Mick would play along with do-gooders. He’d even be a good team member if that’s what it took to survive the Hunters when they came. Snart would use that clever brain of his and maybe, maybe they’d have a fighting chance to win, a chance to kill the bastards before they could kill them. Mick could handle Snart scheming again; that would be okay, as long as Snart remembered what the rules were, who his friend really was.
Mick let his gaze take in the attractive, nicely muscled body on his bed. He hadn’t fucked Snart in a long time. Maybe that was the problem. Fucking was an easy way to remind everyone who was on the top and who was on the bottom. Snart lost sight of that just because he got used to Mick accepting his orders. There was a difference between teamwork where the partners pulled their weight in each of their areas of expertise and where one partner was seen as a lapdog, a flunky of the other.
Snart hated sucking cock but he didn’t mind being fucked. Mick would grant him that favor as long as Snart didn’t lose sight of his place again.
He leaned over his partner until his lips were next to his ear. “Feel free to help the Captain make a plan where we all survive. When you order me about, I’ll do as you ask, no problem. But each night you return here, to my bed. Every night. We’re going to start fucking again, but I’ll give you three days to heal up some first.
“I don’t think the others will mind. I see how things are. Hell, you froze you own hand off and no one went to help you. I dump your beaten body on the bridge and no one raises an eyebrow. To tell you the truth, I’m not seeing too much teaminess towards you from them. Don’t worry though. I’ll take care of you like I always have. You’re just gonna have to pay for the honor of my presence here for a while.” His hand hovered over Snart’s brow. Deciding against touching the swollen bruises, he let his fingers trail over his chest until they found a nipple and he gently rolled the nub between a finger and thumb. “Three nights from now be ready. You remember how I liked you? Clean yourself out first.” He paused for a few moments. “You hearing me?”
“Yeah,” Snart drawled. “I hear you. You’ll be fucking my ass every night starting in three days.”
“You gonna try for better terms?”
“No.” He braced his ribs with his hand and cleared his throat painfully. “If that’s what I have to do to make it right between us, that’s what I’ll do.”
Mick grunted with approval. “Smart. Just for that, I won’t have you suck me off. On the bridge. With them all watching.”
Snart snorted once then tensed up from the pain it caused. “Ow.” A few breaths later, he was able to add a sarcastic, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. They’ll learn not to fuck with me again, or you for that matter.” He walked to the door and paused. “You need anything?”
“Some decent lube three days from now.” There might have been a ghost of a smile following the words.
“I’ll ask Gideon.” He turned out the lights but before he shut the door, he said, “I’ll come back in a few hours with some soup.”
“Thanks, Mick,” came the soft reply. And just like that, Mick knew it would be okay between them, maybe even stronger than ever.
***
Back on the bridge, Ray Palmer glanced worriedly at the corridor that led to the crew quarters for the fifth time in as many minutes. “Are you sure ignoring Snart was the best way to handle this? He was a mess. He could have internal injuries.”
Sara shook her head. “Leave them be. If Snart needs anything, Mick should get it for him.” When Ray continued to look unconvinced, she added, “Snart screwed up and he needed to be punished for that.”
“Needed?” Dr. Stein asked, surprised.
“Oh, yeah. Snart needed to take that beating as much as Mick needed to give it to him. Now that it’s happened, they will go back to being the best of buddies again.” Fuck buddies, she thought but felt it best to leave that unsaid. Some here would understand but there were one or two of the team that probably wouldn’t and might make the fatal error of thinking they should interfere.
Besides, it wasn’t anyone’s business but their own.
And yet still, an image of Mick taking his partner filled her mind and she felt a flush of heat course pleasantly through her. She couldn't stay here with those thoughts making her restless so she turned away from the team. “I’ll be in the gym. Looks like things are going to get hot around here, sooner than later.”