These Dreams

[bringstheheat]

Normally Mick didn't mind waking up. Waking up meant hot coffee, salty bacon and whatever else he could lay his hands on in the galley of the ship before the rest of the wolves descended. Gideon had long since given up any and all attempts to feed him anything that was low-fat, gluten-free (he'd almost burned the galley to a crisp for that shit) or anything else that resembled healthy.

Nope. A man needed caffeine, fat and carbs to get through the day and keep from killing anyone.

So why was he so reluctant to get out of bed?

Why was he recalling memories of a lithe body in his arms, a cascade of blonde hair and laughter that crawled up his spine and made him feel whole again?

Sara. As he passed by Len's bunk, watching the two of them playing cards it hits the big arsonist like a fucking freight train. Another life. Another timeline. Whatever it was, he and Sara had been together. In love. She'd been his fierce, bright star and he'd adored her for it right up until she glanced up at him, cool and assessing and it had been like a fucking heartstrike.

She didn't know.

Mick could recall years of them together, from the day that he'd first stolen a kiss until the day he'd sucked it up and dropped to one knee to ask her for forever and she remembered none of it. Nothing.

He avoided them both after that. Actively. Dodging Len and keeping his distance from Sara as best he could so it didn't trip anything else up. Not that it worked. Snart was too perceptive and Sara too smart not to pick up on the fact that something was wrong.

He had loved her. Still loved her.

Mick was completely and utterly fucked.

Comments

[thecanarylives]

For a group of so-called time masters, life on the Waverider could be strangely domestic at times. Crossing time and space actually took longer than one might assume, and without Netflix or the internet or television in general to pass the time, things were... quiet.

The nice kind of quiet. A quiet Sara could get used to. Filling her time playing cards with Len, training with Kendra, pretending to understand when Ray and Martin started in on one of their physics debates. It was starting to feel like... home. A concept she hadn't truly felt in longer than she'd like to admit.

She thought. But lately, things had felt... off. Like the feeling of homesickness, but not for Star City. Like the feeling of mourning, but she didn't know for whom. Every day she thought it might shake off - like a bad dream that had its hooks in a little too deep. But every day it got a little worse. The loneliness. The heartache.

It occurred to her - perhaps a little late - that maybe Mick had been getting the same feeling, too. He'd been moody lately. Cooped up in his quarters, avoiding the rest of the group. She caught him finally on a snack run in the middle of the night, when the rest of the team was asleep. She hadn't been sleeping much either lately.

"Pancakes?" She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. "Tell me you've got bacon to go with them."

[thecanarylives]

Sara's not much of a touchy person. Hard to be, after what she went through on the island. After the freighter. But something in her wants to reach for him. To keep him from trying to cut and run again.

She drains her cup of water, pulling her legs up onto the cot.

"Guess we could be seeing a hell of a lot worse, right?"