#it definitely makes me appreciate ao3's filtering system though that's for sure

[pheuthe]

Mick + Ray, 26?

(Thank you for this lovely prompt, I really enjoyed writing this one even though it got away from me a bit :D so here you go, atomwave + “I didn’t intend to kiss you.” :))

eighteenth time is the charm

(AO3)

“Are yousure this is the only way, Haircut?”

“Yes,” Raysighs, for what feels like the tenth time. Mick grumbles somethingunintelligible, but still follows Ray down what used to be Santa MonicaBoulevard, through the heaps of rubble and pterodactyl droppings. That’s whatRay has come to value about Mick, actually: the way he will complain, oftenwith his fists, but when shit hits the fan – or when there’s a bomb that needsto be disabled – he’s always right there.

And maybeMick having his back in all the worst situations is messing with Ray’s head,but this is neither the time nor the place to think about it. In fact, Ray hasyet to find the right time and place: not that he’s trying too hard. It’s justso much easier to ignore the warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomachwhenever Mick unexpectedly does something selfless while still frowning aboutit, grumbling like he’s not one of the kindest, bravest people Ray has ever-

“Guys, it’snot the one in Pacific Park, you’ve already tried that one,” Sara says throughthe comm, tearing Ray out of thoughts. He’s secretly grateful for thedistraction; he’s getting steadily worse at ignoring those intrusive thoughts.

Ray bringsup the map of Los Angeles onto the suit’s visor: it’s only moderately accurate,considering that it doesn’t account for several timelines overlapping with eachother, but for their purpose, it will have to do.

“What aboutthe UCLA?”

There arevoices in the background, probably another of their teammates consulting theplans Ray prepared for this mission. A distant roar echoes somewhere nearby, nomore than a few blocks away, just as Sara’s voice returns. “Yeah, that’s stillin the running. You’re about two miles out.”

“Can wefly?” Ray asks, and ignores the way Mick growls in the back of his throat. Therumbling sound sends shivers down Ray’s spine, and there’s definitely no timefor that. In moments like these, Ray really misses the times when he wasn’t soincredibly aware of everything Mick says or does. Ignorance really is bliss.

“You’regood to go up until Westwood, there seems to be a nest of… something unfriendly on the Oppenheimer Tower.”

“Got it,”Ray nods and turns to Mick – who is looking at him like a very angry cat. Ray’sgot experience with angry cats. For some reason, the animals react to him inthe same way his body does to their fur: with violent refusal. But he’s alsogot experience with Mick, and heknows that he won’t actually bepunched in the face when he steps towards the other man and smiles.

“Hold on.And be careful around the jets, okay?”

“I know,”Mick scowls but wraps his arms around Ray’s shoulders, looking pissed. Ray restshis palm against the small of Mick’s back to stabilize the suit’s flight withthe extra weight (at least that’s what Ray tells himself, rather feebly).

It turnsout that rerouting around the National Cemetery is not as much of a good ideaas Ray believed, but they don’t realize that until they see the twenty-feettripods shooting lasers at each other among the graves.

“Very Warof the Worlds,” Mick grunts, close to Ray’s ear. Ray shivers, and wishes theyhad the time to address Mick’s knowledge of that particular work.

Then theyget shot down, or rather, some kind of a charge goes off when one of thetripods explodes, and there’s an emergency landing that Ray thinks could’vegone smoother. Twenty minutes later they’ve managed to shake the machinesrunning after them on spindly, creaky legs, and Ray’s breathing hard as heleans against the dusty wall of a half-collapsed palace that most definitely doesn’t belong in WestwoodVillage.

“If that’s the future, then I’m suddenly alot less excited about time travel,” he groans, pushing his visor up to swipeat the sweat dripping down his brow.

Mick, rightnext to him, leans out of their hiding spot and fires his gun, then grins atRay with that manic light in his eyes that Ray has (unfortunately) come toappreciate.

“I don’tknow, they burn pretty fucking well.”

And ofcourse Mick would be okay with anything that can be torched. Ray lets out aweak laugh and grabs the man’s arm.

“Let’s go.”

UCLA is awhole another can of worms – literally,seeing as there are a few hundred rotting bison corpses lining the streets allaround the campus. Ray gags and covers his nose with his hand, but it doesn’treally help. Mick fires at the nearest corpse and scowls:

“If this isart, I don’t get it.”

Ray wantsto laugh, but that would make him inhale more of the rot, so he just drags Mickinto the School of Engineering, which has somehow acquired a very golden, verystrange clock tower.

And a bomb.That’s the worst part, really.

It doesn’ttake that long to locate the gadget. The timer is counting down, three minutesand fifteen seconds, fourteen, thirteen, and Ray bites the inside of his cheek,stomach squeezing with anxiety at how tight their schedule is. The tripods werereally an unexpected detour… and while technically, they can travel back intime and try again, Gideon has warned them against doing it, their plan alreadyincluding way too much time-travel for the AI’s peace of mind.

Two minutesand fifty-nine seconds, and Mick’s gloved hand closes around Ray’s wrist. Hecan barely feel the touch through his gauntlet, no more than a ghost of afeeling where Mick’s thumb presses into the soft spot against Ray’s wrist, butit’s enough to tear him out of his reverie. He glances at the other man, andsomething in Mick’s eyes flips Ray’s stomach, in the best (and worst,considering their situation) way possible.

“You can doit, Haircut.”

Adrenalinefloods Ray’s system and he nods back, stepping towards the bomb and hoping forthe best. There are two more like it in the city – well, one, considering whatSara said about them having tried the Pacific Park. Fifteen more across thecountry, and only disabling the right one will actually prevent the explosionfrom happening.

Ray has noidea how many they’ve tried before. How many Rays and Micks have been blown uptogether with the rest of the continent while their team blinked out of thatparticular timeline only to retrieve them from an earlier time, so that theycould try again, with a different bomb. Ray tries not to think about hisfeelings on the matter of dying so many times, but… it’s not like he’llremember it, right? And maybe, just maybe, this time they’ll hit the jackpot andthis will be the correct one.

He fusseswith the wires while Mick, unsurprisingly, produces a chocolate bar from somewhere and starts chewing loudly. Itmakes Ray chuckle, which in turn makes him relax a little and focus on his taskbetter. Mick has that effect on him: which should be strange, because mostpeople get really nervous around Mick, not the opposite. Ray’s used to it now,to the unique way they just fit, liketwo pieces of a puzzle. Or like pieces of two different puzzles which were cutout by the same machine, the pictures looking different at first sight but theshapes still matching…? Ray gets lost in his metaphor halfway through, butthen, the build of the bomb suddenly clicks in his brain and he cuts the rightcord, giving Mick a triumphant grin.

The bombstops the countdown at one minute, ten seconds, and Ray lets out a loud breath.

Mick tossesthe candy wrapper to the floor and pushes himself off the table where he’s beensitting, within Ray’s reach.

“Guys?”Sara’s voice sounds worried. “It didn’t work. We’ve got eyes on the PacificPark bomb and it’s still ticking.”

Ray’sinsides turn to lead. He knows what this means – that the team has less than aminute to get out of this particular timeline, return a couple of hours back,and collect the Mick and Ray who have not yet fought off weird futuristictripods or waded through a field of dead animals.

Raysincerely hopes that the past Mick and Ray will have more luck next time.

Heswallows, throat dry to the point of pain and hands shaking, and it filtersthrough his suddenly foggy brain that there’s going to be a Raymond Palmer safeand sound in the future, but it’s not going to be him.

He’s gotjust a few seconds to live, a little more than half a minute, tops. They’reboth going to die, and Ray remembers devising the plan with this exact momentin mind. He’s willing to do it, just as he was willing with the Oculus… but it’shard to fool the survival instinct screaming at him to grab Mick and run, as ifit would do any good with a bomb of this magnitude.

“You reallyshouldn’t have gone with me,” he says quietly, voice thick with the fear hetries not to feel.

Mick’sfingers, bare and scarred, twine with Ray’s own.

“Not like Icoulda let you take all the credit, Haircut.”

And Mick’sgrumbling again, but he’s right there with Ray, about to die who knows how manytimes, but he’s there and Ray’s heartis suddenly filled to the brim and he can’t, can’t die regretting that he never told Mick just how much he meansto Ray.

“Fifteenseconds, guys, we’re out,” Sara’s voice drifts like a distant echo through theearpiece, but Ray doesn’t have time for words, hers or his own. He tosses hishelmet off – it’s not going to protect him now, anyway – and steps right intoMick’s personal space, ignoring the look of dawning apprehension or worry orconfusion, whatever it is, they’ve got no time for that.

Ten secondsnow, or less, and Ray leans into Mick, into that solid warmth that he neverwould’ve expected the first time he laid eyes on the pyro. But Mick is so muchmore than that, so much more than just a goon or a thief or a criminal, morethan Chronos and more than a friend, darn, so much more.

Sevenseconds, and Mick’s sharp inhale cuts through the ominous silence in the room

Six, andhis eyes drift closed, like he trusts Ray, like maybe, he wants this to happen, and Ray’s heart nearly bursts at the thoughtthat he could’ve done this sooner, could’ve felt this terrified and excited andhappy for days, maybe weeks.

Five, andRay closes the distance; four, and their lips meet, Mick’s hands slipping into thesweaty strands of hair at the nape of Ray’s neck. It’s painfully perfect andRay wants to cry, but he can hold it back for the few seconds they still have.

He doesn’tbother coming up for air before the blinding light and the heat of theexplosion swallow them up.

……

“Mick,wait!” Ray calls, stumbling over the debris on the road as he does his best torun after the other man.

Who’smoving surprisingly fast, considering there’s still a broken arrow shaft stuckin his thigh. Ray might be reevaluating his opinion on the dream-come-true ofmeeting – and fighting – actual Cossacks.

“Wait!” heyells again, but Mick isn’t listening, doing his very best to get away from Rayas quickly as possible. Or at least it seems that way, and Ray’s heart is aheap of misery at this point. He didn’t want things to turn out this way, butin his defense…

“I didn’t intend to kiss you, okay?! I’m sorry! Itwas a spur of the moment thing, you know, the moment I thought we had like, tenseconds to live? Mick, talk to-“

He roundsthe corner behind which Mick disappeared and stops short, eyes widening as hespots the whole Waverider crew, allof them, not ten feet away and grinning like a bunch of cats who got a poolfull of cream all to themselves.

“Oh,” Raysighs and rubs at the back of his neck, feeling his cheeks heat up. Mick isscowling, but it’s hard to tell whether he hates Ray or the rest of them moreat the moment.

“You know,”Jax smirks, “it would be much easier to believe that you didn’t intend to do it if you haven’t done it…what, eight times?”

“Ten,” Saracorrects, with an expression that reminds Ray of Leonard Snart.

“What,”Mick snarls, and it’s not even a question, just a demand for explanation. Heshoots Ray a suspicious glare, and Ray’s insides wither like a flower in amicrowave. He wants to ask whether it was really that awful – because for the coupleof seconds they were kissing, Mick actually seemed… not wholly against theidea. Until Sara’s voice came to them through their comms, amusement tintingher words as she announced that she had just been messing with them and theyhave, in fact, disabled the bomb this time and wouldn’t really die.

It’s acruel joke if Ray ever saw one, but he has to admit that he would maybe laugh, out of sheer relief ifnothing else, if only Mick didn’t hightail it out of that room like his buttwas on fire.

No, wait,scratch that, the man might actually enjoythat.

“What?” Rayechoes, albeit weaker. Sara steps forward and wraps her arm around hisshoulders – even the easy, friendly gesture feels like teasing.

“Yeah. Tentimes out of eighteen, you kissed him right before the bomb went off.”

Ray gapes,unable to make a single sound. A part of his brain not completely caught up inthe horror of half-molesting his teammate registers the number eighteen andthinks ‘of course it had to be the verylast one that worked’, but a much bigger part of his mind is trapped in thedawning realization that he won’t get off the hook that easily.

If you dosomething ten times, even if technically, it’s always a different instance of you, it’s much harder to play it off asa ‘spur of the moment’, huh.

Mick growlsunder his breath; Ray really admires Amaya’s bravery for stepping close totheir resident pyro.

“You’ve gotno grounds for that grimace you’re making,” she says, pointing a finger rightin Mick’s face. “The other eight times it was you.”

The changethat washes over Mick’s features is breathtaking: rage transforms intoconfusion and gives way to an expression that Ray would dub ‘deer in theheadlights’. Mick looks a little trapped, and a part of Ray wants to step upand help… but he can’t bring himself to sweep this off the table when he’slearning that maybe Mick could- no, Mick definitely does-

That’s whenMick’s knee goes out from under him and Ray lurches forward to catch him beforehe hits the pavement. Mick’s not looking at him at all, but he does allow Ray to wrap a steadying arm around hiswaist, holding on to Ray’s shoulder in turn.

“Let’s getthat arrow out,” Ray sighs; there’s nothing he can do if Mick doesn’t want totalk about it. Yes, feelings are definitely involved, for both of them… but Raycan’t force Mick to talk about it if he doesn’t want to. And Ray’s learned inthe thirty-seven years of his life that feelings don’t always equal a happyending… perhaps he was naïve to hope that with Mick, things could turn out wellfor once.

The rest ofthe team trail into the Waverider after them, but Ray hardly registers theirpresence. The way to the medbay is one huge awkward moment, the tense silenceinterspersed with Mick’s pained grunts. He still refuses to meet Ray’s eyes andit feels a bit like he’s withdrawing into himself, leaving Ray on the outside… butthat’s okay for the time being, since Ray is doing his best to collect histhoughts anyway.

He sticksaround while Gideon heals Mick’s thigh, and tries not to cast odd looks at Mick’snaked skin. Come to think of it, he can’t remember seeing Mick without pantsbefore, and he flushes when his eyes wander up the surprisingly smooth thigh tothe simple (red) boxer briefs. Ray averts his eyes as quickly as humanlypossible: Mick didn’t react too well to the kiss, whether or not he might’veinstigated a few himself, so Ray’s pretty sure he wouldn’t like to be ogled,either.

Finally,Gideon declares Mick ��good as new’ and Ray hears the shuffling noises of theother man sliding off the seat and reaching for his bloodied pants. The sightof him, standing in the cold medbay in a long-sleeved shirt, boxers and socks,scowling at the torn jeans in his hand and looking lost, breaks Ray’s heart alittle and he pushes himself away from the wall:

“I’ll getyou new ones, just wait here, okay?”

He’shalfway out the door when Mick’s quiet voice stops him.

“Wait.”

Ray turns,and Mick isn’t hypnotizing the floor anymore: he’s looking right back, andthere’s a kind of vulnerability in his eyes that Ray’s afraid to analyze toohard, for fear of it slipping away.

Andsuddenly, he’s chuckling and walking closer, the feeling of being forced outbehind Mick’s personal barriers gone.

“Who would’vethought we’d have to die eighteen times to get to this point, huh?” he jokes,and a shadow flickers over Mick’s expression. Before Ray can apologize –because what an awful joke to make to someone who lost his best friend twice injust a couple of months – Mick is reaching out and tangling his fingers intothe belt of Ray’s suit, pulling him closer.

“Justseventeen,” he huffs, his face suddenly awfully close. Ray swallows, his brain shuttingdown as Mick crosses the distance, lips almost brushing Ray’s. “And I’ve got ascore to even out, Haircut.”

It’s notthe most romantic declaration of intent that Ray could imagine, but when Mickbites at his bottom lip, he can’t find it in himself to complain.

#atomwave #fanfiction #prompt fill #temporary character death #but everyone lives in the end i promise lol #Anonymous #pheuthe answers