#a missing queue

Since the moment she sired him, Spike had never quite been able to sneak up on Drusilla. While the other half of the whirlwind had taken longer for such a bond to form, Spike’s had been nearly instant. Even with her nose buried in roses and a nonsense lullaby playing through her head, her lips still curl at the presence she feels at the door. “Has the big, bad sun gone to sleep?” she sing songs, spinning on her heels and cocking her head to the side. “Is it finally time to play?”

“Hey, bat boy.” Yeah, she’s getting a little attached to that nickname. Faith doesn’t wait for Spike to turn around completely, just hucking the pack of cigarettes at the side of his face. It’s a little too fun to watch vamp’s faces when they get surprised. That’s certainly not something she’s about to grow out of anytime soon. “They were out of that posh brand you wanted, so I got you more of the same.”

“So when did you realize you weren’t just into dudes?”

there wasn’t exactly protocol for what they were doing, flying blindly into the eye of the time storm, so to speak. the frustrations of the team screwing up certainly felt worse, given that the consequences could be dire. which was what had len’s behavior concerning rip. “mr. snart,” he says as a debrief ends, leaning over his desk with his eyes trained on the books spread across it. “hang back a moment? i have a question for you.” which gave him approximately three seconds to figure out how to properly ask ‘could you please stop taking your emotions out on whoever we’re fighting?’.

she knows full well that he’s hanging by a thread. even the most oblivious of them could see it, but she’s not sure anyone else is quite sure why. of course losing mick had turned his life upside down, had left him a shell of his former self, but that wasn’t the only thing going on. sara had watched him spin out over something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but she finally catches the way he looks at her when she’s talking to rip and starts piecing it together. the logical response would be to explain herself, but he beats her to the punch by shoving her against the hallway wall and kissing the breathe out of her. 

“is this about rip?”

It had taken Rip a horrifyingly long amount of time to realize how many contingencies he had to plan for with the team. Their first mission should’ve clued him in to the lack of desire of following his direction (how quickly had he wanted to dump them back in 2016?), and yet there he was, fixing Mick with the most disapproving look he can mange. 

“Is there a reason you aren’t dressed, Mr. Rory?” The rest of the team was already dressed in their uncomfortable formal wear, yet Mick was still wearing his usual attire, “We have a party to crash.”

she supposes she deserved the scoff. of course he was exhausted, of course he wasn’t sleeping. it was a miracle she was any, even if it was more ‘passing out from exhaustion’ for an hour or two at a time. but his dismissal of her concern just makes her worry worse. “jobs? i’m not concerned about you missing a mark, i’m concerned about you running yourself ragged until you die of exhaustion. you need to sleep.”

2016 had not been a time Rip was very interested in to begin with. Maybe that was part of the reason he’d pulled his team from the era, unconcerned about the effects on such a tumultuous time period. And yet, Sara had somehow convinced him to spend more like a few minutes in the time and go to a (sigh) diner.

“Why are we here?” he asked, leaning over the table with palms flat against the surface. “We can get perfectly good fried whatever on the Waverider.”