#lot text

“Oh no, no. I just came to see if you’re okay,” Ray answered, rocking back and forth on his heels.

His eyes narrowed, Rip crossed his arms and gave him a nod.

“Well, as you can see, I’m perfectly fine,” At the other man’s unimpressed look, he rolled his eyes and tilted his head to the side, “Well, as fine as I can be considering. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Barely registering the way Ray’s eyes widened in a panic, Rip walked around him and made his way toward the bridge.

“Hey! Did you know we had rats on the ship?”

That managed to catch his attention. Stopping in his stride, he slowly turned around, his eyes wide opened as he stared at Ray, the latter stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

“I’m sorry. What?” Rip choked out, his hand clenching into a fist by his side.

“We’ve got rats. Well, actually we’ve got one rat – by we, I mean Mick  - but you know how it is with rodents: where there is one, another hides elsewhere and-”

Rip wasn’t sure he had processed everything Ray had been rambling about. Seeing as it concerned rodents on his ship, he knew that he should probably paying attention to the subject of conversation. The random and sudden change of subject caught him by surprise, Ray’s blabber confusing him further more. Martin walking into the medbay stopped him cutting into the other man’s rodents’ rant. Rip watched with a frown as the older man took a look around the room before his gaze fell on him.

“Oh good, you’re still here,” Martin sighed in relief, making his way to him.

“Actually, I was on my way out-” Rip started.

“About that,” he interrupted, rubbing his hands together; “I was thinking that it would be better for you to stay put for a few more days.”

“I don’t really think that’s necessary-“ he started again, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Rip understood the logic behind him staying at the medbay, under constant surveillance. He really did, seeing as the last time he had been left on his own, he had succeeded in deliberately crashing the Waverider in the Stone Age. While he hadn’t been in complete control of his actions when doing so, Rip had been getting better since then – thanks to Jax and Sara travelling into his mind.

“With all due respect, Captain,” Martin spoke up, breaking Rip’s train of thoughts, “You’ve been through quite the ordeal and while I’d like to take your word for it, it wouldn’t be the first time you’d downplay the gravity of your health-“

“Martin,” Rip said, putting an end to the older man’s tirade, “I appreciate the concern and understand your wariness about my current state and my abilities,” he ignored the muttered ‘none of us are wary’ and put a hand on the professor’s shoulder, “But as I was telling Mr Palmer before you came in, I am fine. Beside, I’m aware that things have changed during my absence. I’m planning on taking things slow for now on.”

He watched, slightly puzzled, as Martin and Ray exchanged a look, the latter shrugging in response. With a loud and long sigh, Martin looked back at Rip and gave a small nod.

“Very well, then.”

Giving him a small smile, he patted his shoulder and walked out, making his way to the bridge. He hadn’t even taken two steps into the hallway before having his path blocked by Nate, the latter too busy reading some book to notice his presence. Restraining a groan of frustration, Rip crossed his arms and loudly cleared his throat, stiffening a smirk when he jumped, a yelp coming out of his mouth.

“Heeeeeeeey, Captain Hunter-” Nate drawled out with a sheepish grin before he sobered up and tilted his head to the side, frowning in contemplation,  “Cap-captain Rip Hunter. Mr Hunter. What am I supposed to call you?”

“Rip’s fine, Mr Heywood,” he replied, slightly amused by the other man’s nervous blabber.

“Nate,” he retorted with a finger pointed to himself, earning a snort from Rip, “Which you already knew. But what I meant is, just Nate is fine.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, then,” Rip nodded.

Nate returned the nod, a pleased spreading on his face and his fingers drumming against the hardcover of his book. As an awkward silence began to stretch between them, Rip narrowed his eyes at the other man’s nervous behaviour, the latter bouncing on his toes while clicking his tongue. Tilting his head to the side, he opened his mouth to ask if something was wrong, before thinking better of it and closing it. Nate’s nerves were probably due to him being alone with Rip. At least that what was the Captain thought, his jaw clenched. With another nod and clear of throat, Rip went to move around him, only to have Nate block his way again. 

“It’s really great to meet you in person, you know,” Nate said loudly, ignoring the confused look Rip was sending him, “It’s great to see you live up the stories Amaya and I have been told.”

“Do I really?” Rip deadpanned, an eyebrow lifted in doubt.

He wasn’t too sure that, during his absence, his team had been singing his praises to the two newcomers. Oblivious to his scepticism, Nate nodded frantically, his smile widening.

“Well,” he sighed, “I better go and catch on what I’ve missed if I want to uphold my reputation.

“And just out of curiosity, where are you going?” Nate asked, his tone hesitant as he stepped to the side, once again blocking the Captain’s path.

“My office, if that’s fine with you?” Rip retorted, his confusion turning into irritation.

“Ah,” he grimaced, tilting his head to the side, “Actually, you can’t go there.”

“And why’s that?” he shot back, his stance defensive.

Rip felt a bit of pride at the way Nate’s eyes widened, unconsciously taking a couple of steps back. His pride was short-lived, though, and was replaced by guilt as he noticed his hands clench into fists by his side, as if readying him to attack. 

“You can’t go to your office because all of the reports concerning the latest missions have been stocked in the library,” the new arrival suddenly intervened, not even letting Rip the time to think about an apology.

Turning around, he found Amaya standing by his side, her arms crossed and staring at Nate with intent. He watched, with a frown, as Nate returned the look before he snapped his fingers and pointed at her.

“Right, that’s why,” he confirmed, though his tone sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince Rip, “I’ll be going now.” 

Amaya let out a snort as she watched Nate beat a hasty retreat, muttering under his breath, Rip lifted an eyebrow at her in question, to which she responded with a shake of head. With a sigh, he ran a hand over his face, the other stuffed in his pocket as he began to make his way to the library. To his surprise, Amaya didn’t follow Nate on his way back to the bridge but walked by his side. Noticing his stare, she stopped and frowned.

“Do you mind if I walk with you for a bit?” she inquired.

“Oh no, it’s fine,” he reassured.

Amaya shot him a small smile and wrapped her arms around herself. Both of them fell into a comfortable silence as they made their way to the library. Rip was aware of the constant glances that she threw his way every ten seconds. He couldn’t tell if she was looking at him with suspicion or if she was just curious. They hadn’t spent d that much time together, if you were to ignore the time he had spent trying to kill the entire crew.

“Can I ask you something?” Amaya spoke up, putting an end to the silence and breaking his train of thoughts.

“Uh – sure,” Rip stopped walking, his hands stuffed in his pockets, “what is it?”

He watched, with a frown, as she tucked her hair behind her ear, nibbling nervously on her bottom lip.

“About the JSA,” she started, clenching and unclenching her fists, “Were they mad-”

“About you leaving?” he finished, an eyebrow cocked. With a sigh of relief, Amaya nodded, “I don’t think so. Not that I would know, I haven’t spent that much time with them. They did spoke very highly of you, though,” Rip added after noticing her frustration, “I guess if they were angry at you at some point, they understood the reasoning between your departure.”

She shot him a small smile at the assurance.

“The same thing can be said about you, you know,” her smile widened at his perplexed tilt of head, “what I meant is that this group of people speaks very highly of you, too. They’ve never lost faith in you or the mission you’ve trusted them with. And after meeting you, I can see why.”

Rip gave her a crooked smile and bowed his head, rubbing the back of his neck in humility. He knew he hadn’t been the greatest Captain or team leader, endangering members of his crew without a second thought and keeping secrets from them. He had tried to redeem himself in the months following the destructing of the Oculus. Apparently, he had managed to get through them, somehow.

“Well, it seems that it took me turning to the Dark Side for them to do what they’re being told,” Rip retorted, smirking.

Huffing out a laugh, Amaya gave his arm a squeeze, oblivious to the other’s surprised reaction at the comforting touch.

“You should give them more credit. Same thing goes for you, Captain.”

With another squeeze and smile, she let go of him and began to make her way back to the bridge. He watched her leave, a contemplative look on his face before he continued his trek to the library. For some reason, he wasn’t surprised when he found Mick sprawled on the desk chair, his feet crossed on the table and a bottle he didn’t recognize as one of his own in his hands. With a sigh, Rip walked in and made his way to the desk, where he could see an even pile of folders in its corner. Mick barely spared him a glance as he got closer and, without a word, grabbed an extra glass from the cupboard behind him. Grabbing a file from the pile, Rip watched with a frown as he poured an amber liquid to the rim of the glass.

“I don’t think that I should be drinking at the moment,” he remarked.

“What makes you think the second glass is for you?” Mick retorted, pushing it toward him with the butt of the bottle, “Beside if you’re planning on reading these, alcohol is going to help.”

With a grimace, Rip dropped the folder back onto the desk and sat down in front of him, watching as Mick emptied half of his glass in one go without wincing. Leaning back into his chair, he took the glass, the liquid swirling in it as he did so.

“All good in the head, now?” Mick grumbled, the ghost of a smirk on his face.

“I suppose,” he snorted, looking up at the pyro. Trust Mick to tactlessly inquire about his mental health. Mimicking the other man’s smirk, Rip lifted his glass in a silent toast, “And I hear that I have you to thank for.”

Grunting, Mick briefly looked up at him before looking down at his lap, where he was trying to balance his glass without having the liquid overflow from it.

“Don’t thank me yet, English. I didn’t do it for you anyway,” at Rip’s cocked eyebrow, he lifted a shoulder, “Most of the crew was going crazy with you on the dark side, especially Captain Blondie and the kid.”

“Still, you did it for the team,” Rip retorted, stiffening an amused smile at Mick’s reluctance at admitting that he actually cared.

“I did it for myself,” he corrected, glaring at him, “I got tired of everyone whining about you.”

Undeterred by his glare, Rip gave him a nod and raised his glass to him. With an eye roll, Mick clinked his glass with his before downing his drink in one go. Rip gave his drink a cautious sniff before taking a gulp. His eyes scrunched in disgust, he was barely aware of Mick snickering as he struggled to swallow what he thought was whiskey, coughing. 

“What the bloody hell is that?” Rip croaked out, eyeing his glass with distaste.

“No idea,” Mick admitted as he got up from his chair, slamming his empty glass on the desk, “Snatched it from Al Capone’s.”

 His eyes widened at the nonchalant confession, his head tilted to the side as if he had misheard the words that had left the thief’s mouth. Shaking his head, he cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Do I really want to know how you came across Al Capone’s possession?”

“Probably not,” Mick retorted, slamming the bottle in front of him with a smirk, “Take it as a ‘welcome back’ gift, Captain.”

“You shouldn’t have, really,” Rip deadpanned.

Snorting, Mick patted his back and made his way out of the library, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Sighing, he pushed back the drink with a scowl on his face and grabbed a couple of folders. He was half way through reading about their mission in Feudal Japan, when he heard a soft knock. Rip looked up to find Sara leaning against the threshold, a small smile on her face.

“Barely out of the medbay and already back at work,” she clicked her tongue in fake disapproval, “You’ve got a problem, Hunter.” 

Rolling his eyes, he let out a scoff and closed off the file, throwing it back onto the pile of read file he had made.

“I’ve been out of the loop for a while, just trying to catch up,” Rip crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair as Sara hopped onto the desk, “I haven’t seen much of you, today.”

“Well, being Captain is a lot harder that it seems. Everyone wants a piece of me,” she retorted, flipping her hair behind her shoulder.

“Yeah,” he smiled at her, “Well, you’ve done a remarkable job from what I can see.”

Snorting, Sara grabbed his discarded glass and downed it in one go, wincing as the alcohol burned down her throat. Judging by the disgusted look on her face, she was wincing at the taste.

“This is nasty,” she muttered, putting it back onto the desk, “I’m glad you’re back, though. Takes some of the weight off my shoulders.

“I don’t know about that,” Rip began, his tone teasing and light, “Like I’ve said, you’ve been handling it very well. I could leave, retire or take a break.”

He saw her expression darken and her fist going for his shoulder, but he didn’t stop it. He gritted his teeth in pain when her punch landed on his shoulder, scowling at her as he rubbed his arm.

“Don’t say that. You’re not going anywhere, Hunter. Got it?”  Sara warned, shaking a finger in his face.

With a nod, he grabbed her finger and before she could take it back, Rip intertwined their fingers, giving her hand a small squeeze. He watched, with a fond smile, as the tips of her ears redden.

“I apologize for the interruption,” Gideon intervened, “Your presences are requested on the bridge, Captains.”

“Roger that, Gideon,” Sara replied, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand.

Clearing her throat, she pulled Rip to his feet and let go of his hand, plastering a smile on her face as she stuffed her hands in her pockets.

“Come on, you’ve heard the A.I,” Sara nodded to the ‘gifted’ bottle on the desk, “You should bring that with you.”

Rip frowned at her before his gaze fell onto the offending bottle of alcohol. By the time he looked back to the doorway, Sara had already disappeared. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed the bottle and made his way out. His frown deepened as he noticed the obscurity in the hallway leading to the bridge. His hand automatically went to his side, only to remember a second too late that he didn’t have his gun holster or any kind of weaponry by his side

Swearing, Rip held out a hand as he slowly trudged through the hall. Letting out a breath, he stopped at the bridge’s entrance, squinting his eyes as he tried to discern silhouettes in the dark.

“Gideon, lights,” Rip whispered.

His eyes fluttering shut as the room was enlightened, he barely had to register anything before he was assaulted with noise. 

“SURPRISE!”

“Jesus Fucking-” Rip jumped back, a hand coming to rest on his racing heart.

Letting out a breath, he reopened his eyes to find the entire crew grinning back at him, apparently amused by his predicament. Their behaviours weren’t the weirdest thing, though, nor were the party hats that they each were wearing. No, what caught his attention was the fact that the bridge had been completely decorated with party ornaments. Balloons filled the room, the floor was covered with confetti and banners hung from the ceiling. Tilting his head to the side, Rip narrowed his eyes as he tried to read what was written on it.

“What the hell -” Rip started.

“Do you like it?” Ray made his way to him, his party hat crooked and a garland wrapped around his neck, “Sara and Jax didn’t find any ‘Congratulations on not being dead’ at Party City, obviously. So I made it – Nate helped,” he added, rolling his eyes at Nate’s loud, oblivious cough.

Rip wasn’t sure he had understood any of the words that had left Ray’s mouth, but still he nodded as the other man wrapped around his shoulders and led him onto the bridge. He barely blinked at Mick walking to him, a smirk on his face and pried the bottle out of his grasp.

“Would you look at that? The good Captain brought booze at his own party,” he unscrewed the bottle and raised it in a toast, “How thoughtful.”

He frowned as Mick walked away, bringing the bottle to his mouth before turning back to Ray.

“Wait- when did any of you had the time to go to Party City? And how did I not notice it?” Rip muttered to himself. 

Amaya snorted at his slow processing, shoving an opened bottle of beer out in his hand.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time unconscious lately,” she shrugged, taking a sip of her own drink, “Jax and Sara might have borrowed the drop ship and flown to 2017 for some shopping.”

Again, Rip could do nothing but nod. Bringing his beer to his mouth, he replayed the last few days in his mind, trying to understand how could he have missed it. Hell, he hadn’t even noticed their strange behaviours until today. With him spending most of his time in the medbay and drifting from sleeping to awake every five hours, it was not as if he had the occasion to notice they were hiding something from him. Rip had noticed the constant absence of Jax and Sara, but he had attributed to them being busy.

He spotted Jax and Martin discussing over a cart of food while Sara was leaning against the threshold of his study, laughing about something Amaya said. A clear of throat made him look up to find the superhero duo he had been observing a moment ago in front, in front with their cart of food.

“Hey guys,” Jax breathed out, handing each of them a cupcake. Rip couldn’t help but smirk as he noticed the hourglass drawn on it. He cocked an eyebrow at the younger man, to which the latter responded with a shrug, “I was going for a theme.”

“Yeah, a really weird theme,” Sara remarked, appearing at Jax’s side, “You should have seen the baker’s face when we asked when we told her the message we wanted written on the cake: ‘congrats on not being dead and not a mindless drone anymore.”

“I don’t see the other half of that message,” Rip remarked, cocking an eyebrow. 

“Eh, the first half was already weird enough,” she shrugged her shoulder, dragging her finger through the icing before spreading it on Rip’s cheek.

Grimacing in disgust, he wiped his cheek on his shoulder and threw her a glare, the latter ignoring it as Sara sipped on her beer, a smirk on her face. Humming in realization, she handed him her bottle, which he took with a suspicious look, and stormed into his study. Rip threw a look at Jax, to which he responded with a clueless shrug. Sara reappeared with a wrapped in her hands, which did nothing to ease his suspicion. She stopped in front of him, a satisfied and eager smile on her face.

“Let’s do a trade,” she said, nodding to the beers and cupcake he had in his hands.

Knowing better than arguing with her about it, Rip put the bottles and pastry on top of the box before carefully grabbing the package from under. Sara grabbed the bottles by the neck and put the cupcake into her mouth, waggling her eyebrows at Rip’s unimpressed expression.

“You didn’t need to get me a present, y’know,” he sighed, pulling on the bow on top of it.

Rolling her eyes, Sara took the cake out of her mouth.

“Open it before you start whining. And then, you’ll thank me,” she added, biting into the pastry.

With a sigh, he slowly took of the lid of the box, leaning back as if preparing himself for something to blow in his face. Nothing happened, though. Cocking an eyebrow, he let the lid fall onto the floor and peered into the package, his heart skipping a beat out the familiar pocket watch resting on top of a neatly brown trench coat. His mouth dry, Rip looked up to see Sara’s smug expression. Huffing out a laugh, he shook his head and took the watch out of the box, slowly opening it and letting out a sigh of relief at the untouched photograph.

“Where did you find this?” he breathed out, finding it impossible to tear his eyes from the picture. 

“In the inside pocket of your coat, the latter i found in your study” Sara grinned, satisfied, “I thought that I should hold on to it. As for the coat, well, I don’t think I could imagine our Captain wearing anything else that the coat he stole from his cowboy boyfriend. Am I right, fellas?” she finished, raising her beer.

Jax and Ray replied with an ‘Aye’, each raising their drinks while Martin gave a small nod and Mick grunted. Sara turned back to him, raising an eyebrow as if saying ‘see?’. Rip responded with an eye roll, closing the pocket watch and slipping it into the box.

“Thank you,” he said, looking up at her with a smile, which she returned with a nod, “To all of you, actually,” Rip added, his gaze darting from one person to another, “I’m very grateful for all that each of you have done and I’ll forever be in your-”                                      

“Urgh,” Mick groaned, his head falling backward, “he’s getting sappy.”

“He’s right,” Sara intervened before Rip could even think about protesting, “Don’t ruin my party mood, Hunter. Gideon, play my jam!”

Cheers filled the bridge as the Rolling Stones’ Satisfaction began blaring through the speakers. Rip watched with a fond smile as Jax made both Amaya and Sara twirl under his arms while Ray and Nate stayed to the side, the former singing out of tune and the latter playing air-guitar. Detaching himself from Jax, Amaya succeeded in convincing Mick to join her, which Rip found pretty incredible and funny. He had to stiffen a smirk when the pyro turned to glare at him, as if sensing his amusement, and raised his beer in greeting. From the corner of his eye, he could see Sara leave Martin’s side and moved toward him. 

I’m caught up on season 4 spoilers and what bits and bobs that have been released, and oh boy does it stink. It stinks badly, like a rot that grows because no one gives a shit, and when people do realize, they throw a tantrum because only now do they care to actually acknowledge the problem they’ve been skimming over cause 1) they can 2) they don’t care beyond their limited scope and 3) my personal favorite, it’s a fun show! It shouldn’t take itself seriously! 

The legends have broken time twice now, mind you.

Other things I’ve seen that make me regret blogging legends since season one: praising 2x04 as the episode ‘that freed the slaves’, while ignoring the fact that jax and amaya were enslaved, completely skimming over the blaring obvious dog whistles of season 3 (my grievances in no particular order: the killing of martin stein, writing off jax the next episode, white washing the deep south in the 1950s, the casual killing of an asian man of color, the biphobia in that constantine/ava exchange, and on and on. season 3 was great, y’all.)

Maybe it’s just the s1/s2 and s3/s4 divide that’s showing, but what rings clear is how much people are willing to excuse low-key racism. And I know the gut reaction to such a charge is ‘oh, those fans are at again, they need to chill out or leave’ but really? really?

The group of fans I’m thinking of are Those people- scary enough that when there isn’t a pleasant reaction, shade and talk about it in private or risk your inbox being bombarded with a shitton of, well, anything you’d expect. 

And god forbid y’all have something that doesn’t go your way. flo left willingly? the supergirl writers are conspiring against you! ruby rose got cast as kate and left twitter because people had the nerve to call her out for taking the role despite not being jewish? it’s just fandom being toxic and hating wlw, right?

That’s a topic for another day, but talk about loose canons. Wild.

Legends had tone-deaf writing in seasons one and two, no doubt about it. I’ve always envisioned it as an escalation of sorts- season one is light in it and there’s nothing too egregious (same level you’d find elsewhere), season two you could mostly block it out since it was the filler episodes (guggenheim wrote the slavery one, no no one’s surprise), but season three just didn’t care.

I don’t think the writers knew what they were doing that season; they listened to the most vocal group of fans (no shit) and the result is as expected. the amaya plot that set up the season got pushed to the sidelines for the ava plot, and the plot with rip and mallus was ignored until the very last two episodes cause hey, they learning from supergirl writers what pacing is. It’s great story telling, really.

I’m not sure what Zari’s plot was. It really did seem like they were pushing for a romance with one of the waverider crew men (ray or wally, it seemed like) but that got merged with her finding her fit on the team and that result was, well, something. Awkward, but it established her as member of the team.

A quick warming before y’all read this next bit: don’t come into my inbox being total assholes. This is a read more post, and if you’re still reading, this post either gets agreement or more likely, gets dragged on tumblr/twitter for being completely wrong. Please leave me out of it. 

Sara and Ava’s plot was so convoluted; they say I love you after two weeks of dating/fucking/whatever and that’s.. hell, even christian dating takes longer than that. 3a and 3b were so starkly different in dynamics: 3b does a one eighty and makes this barely-tolerating-each-other/we-probably-still-hate-each-other-lbr dynamic into crushing because well, logic. Dunno. The two of them honestly look like siblings and it’s not written very well, romance wise. The characters don’t mesh.

Ray and Nora just reminds how much I miss kendra/ray in terms of healthy relationships that actually communicate and aren’t nora looking so fucking annoyed at him. but hey, the fans wanted it and the fans got it. can’t forget that particular part.

Rip Hunter deserved a better plot, end of story, no questions asked. That topic could get it’s own essay ffs, so. Fun.

One last thing, before I finish: the fandom this season makes me long for the days of captain canary and listen, I’ve been blocked by several big source blogs ‘cause of the cc (and other) wank. Classy stuff all around, but at least I knew the CCers wouldn’t go for personal attacks, not like the s3 lot.  

Letting out a breath, Rip took a quick look around him, his eyes taking it all in before it fell back onto Jax.

 “I actually wanted your opinion on this space.”

“It’s-“ Jax shrugged, his gaze darting around the room, disinterested, “space-y?” 

A breathy chuckle escaped the Captain’s mouth, much to Jax’s confusion and slight irritation. Pursing his lips, Rip gave a small hum and scratched the back of his head, thoughtful.

“What I meant is, what do you think about constructing a library in here. I thought that seeing as our mission is taking to new lengths, a few additions to the Waverider would be necessary,” he explained, noticing Jax’s slightly puzzled expression. He shot him a small smirk, an eyebrow cocked, “Can’t have you lot protecting History without a proper library and research centre, can I?”

Jax snorted at the small jab, only listening to him with one ear. Fully stepping into the space, he crossed his arms and turned on his heels, the blueprints drawing themselves and the area completely furnished in his mind. Oblivious to Rip’s smug smirk, Jax crossed his arms and made sure to remember each inch of the room, categorizing them in his mind for later.

“Do you think it’s doable?” Rip asked, breaking – rather loudly – his train of thoughts.

His lips pursed in thought, Jax shrugged.

“Depends,” he sighed, “How large do you want this library to be?”

“I believe the length of the room would suffice. You don’t seem to agree,” Rip added, his eyes narrowing as he noticed Jax’s small frown.

“It’s not that I don’t agree,” the younger man weakly countered, raising a hand, “It just seems a bit cramped. Alright, you want to build a library, research centre or whatever? You’re going to need room. You’re going to need a work area, which we could actually use for research,” Jax kept talking as he gestured around the room, relieved to find Rip interested in his small exposé when he dared a glance at the Captain,  “I bet you would want to model it like your study right?” he couldn’t help his victorious smile at the older man’s nod, “Your study is what? 10 feet in length, we would need about three extra feet here. We can’t knock out that wall, can we?”

Jax added the last question with a grimace. Rip frowned at him, as if he disapproved of the very thought of deliberately causing damage to this ship, which would be understandable.  What he had misread as disapproval turned out to be contemplation, and again, Jax couldn’t help but feel relief at the lack of lectures. Racking a hand through his hair, Rip then crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Jax couldn’t help but stare at the tablet hanging loosely from the hands of his fingers, anxious.

“I don’t think so. Knocking off the wall would mean to get rid of one of the ship’s support and it would entail a load of work,” he muttered under his breath, “But we can extent the area,” he added with a nonchalant shrug, as if it were big deal.

“Can you really do that?” Jax exclaimed, his eyes widening in awe and the almost-falling tablet forgotten.

Rip’s smirk seemed to be the only response he needed. Pushing himself off the wall, he looked up at the ceiling and tucked his tablet under his arm.  

“Gideon, what do we have behind this wall?”

 “The hallway leading to the bridge, Captain,” the A.I responded.

“And is it large enough for us to extend this by three feet?” Rip asked, his brow furrowed in concentration as he resumed his typing on the device.

“I suppose it is, Captain. Would you like me to do a simulation of the room’s hypothetical expansion?”   

“Might as well,” he muttered.

Frowning in confusion as the lights deemed, Jax turned to Rip, the latter smirking at him and holding a hand as he opened his mouth to ask what was going on. Quickly, his confusion was replaced by amazement as the walls surrounded him became transparent and gave them a view of the common area – Jax let out a small chuckle when he saw Sara slipping two of her cards underneath Ray’s knees, the latter oblivious as he stared at his own set of cards, deciding on which he should put down. Jax only had a few seconds to marvel at the scene before somehow, the area expanded of a few more meters and actually looked like a room and not some grey unoccupied space.

“It seems like an expansion is conceivable,” Gideon spoke up, her synthetic voice breaking the silence. Jax was taken by how soft and pleased the A.I sounded.

“Yes, it does, Gideon,” Rip agreed and Jax didn’t need to turn around to know that the Captain was smiling. And that felt like an accomplishment of its own.

In the blink of an eye, Jax found himself back into the plain, grey empty space and he tried to ignore the disappointment clinging at the back of his mind.  Rip’s hopeful and satisfied smile helped to forget it, in a way. 

“So,” he started, cocking an eyebrow at the younger man, “Now that we know that adjustments such as this are possible, do you think that it’s doable?” he repeats, a secretive twinkle in his eye.

He blew out a breath, unable to control the smile taking over his face, and shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess. It’s going to be a lot of work, but…” Jax crossed his arms and nodded to Rip, “it’s doable.”

“Alright, then,” he nodded and handed him his tablet, which did nothing but confused the younger man, “Better get to it right away, you’ve got a lot of work ahead of you.

Jax heard the words that left Rip’s mouth. He was pretty sure the words made sense. He didn’t understand what were they supposed to mean, though. He replayed the moment in his mind several times, changing the words’ place in the sentence and still he couldn’t make sense it. Because it simply didn’t made sense. Why would Rip Hunter, the actual Captain of a time ship, give him, Jefferson Jackson, a mere grease monkey and other half of a metahuman, the responsibility of such a task?”

Rip watched, seemingly amused as Jax gaped at him, his mouth dry and his eyes wide opened. If he hadn’t been so perplexed, he would’ve probably been frustrated at the Captain’s obvious smug satisfaction and delight. Seeing as he still hadn’t taken the tablet he was being handed, Rip cleared his throat and slowly put the device in the younger man’s hand, wrapping his fingers around it so he wouldn’t drop it.  With a last smile and encouraging pat on the shoulder, he went to walk away. Jax blinked at him, his mind fuzzy and his hands heavy. The weight of the tablet brought him back to reality.

“Wait!” he called, causing Rip to stop in his tracks and turn back around, an eyebrow cocked in question. With a couple of long strides, Jax quickly caught up to him, “You want me to do build that library?”

“Well, yes. I thought that I’d been clear,” he retorted, his nonchalant tone implying that it was obvious.

And even though he confirmed it, it still didn’t make sense to Jax. He tightened his hold around the tablet, as if making sure it was real and not just a fragment in his imagination, and looked up at Rip, the latter staring at him expectantly.

“Why me?” he asked, lifting a shoulder.

“Why not?” Rip shot back, his hands deep in his pocket and the hint of a smile on his face.

His detachment frustrated him more, now that his mind was clearer and Jax found himself gritting his teeth. Letting out breath through his nose, he brought the tablet to his forehead, the cool surface strangely soothing, before letting it fall to his side.

“I’m just a mechanic.  You’ve got two geniuses on this ship, I’m pretty sure one of them is a more suitable choice than I am. I mean, Ray made his suit. A library wouldn’t be much to handle for him.”

“I also got a former member of the League as my second, and at some point, had two criminal and a couple of reincarnated Egyptian entities as part of my crew,” Rip retorted, both of his eyebrows up. He smirked at the look Jax was sending him, “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought we were stating obvious facts.”

Jax scoffed and rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. Rip’s smirk softened into a small smile as he took a few steps toward the younger man, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Despite what you may think, none of my choices are taken without a reason or lightly. I trust you with this task because I have faith in you and your abilities, Jax. You’ve proven worthy of that trust at multiples occasions, even though I didn’t always deserve it,” he admitted with a sigh, smiling at Jax’s slight grimace, “Don’t sell yourself so short.”

His jaw clenched, Jax bowed his head, fingers tapping against the hard case of the tablet case as he thought over the Captain’s words. Rip’s praise and belief meant more than he ever thought it would.  Somewhere between getting drugged and destroying a literal time old institution, Jax had found himself seeking his older peers’ validation and acceptance. As the youngest member of the crew, he had tried to prove his worth, volunteering for tasks he hadn’t the abilities required, reading the Waverider’s handbook and familiarizing himself with every part of the ship. And somehow, he had earned the trust and affection of a former Time Master, a pair of crooks, an Egyptian goddess, a resurrected assassin and two geniueses. People with whom he had never thought he would be so close, people that he had come to admire, people that he had come to consider as family.

“Unless,” Jax looked up at Rip, the latter reaching for the device in his hands, “you’re not feeling up to the task,” he said, his tone light and taunting.

Narrowing his eyes at the other man, Jax shook his head and held the tablet out of the Captain’s grasp. If he looked closed enough, he could almost see Rip stiffen a smirk as his hands closed around thin air.

“No,” Jax muttered, still shaking his head before clearing his throat and repeating it louder, “No, I’ll do it.”

“You sure? I would completely understand if you decided to back out. It would be a shame, really, since you’ve already got a vision for it. A great one, might I add, Mr Jackson,” Rip let out a long, dramatic sigh, rubbing the back of his neck, “Maybe Dr Palmer would be more suited to the task.”

 “No!” Jax repeated louder, his tone forceful as he hugged the tablet to his chest, “I got it. Ray’s more of a scientist that he is a mechanic, anyway. Making his own super suit, while impressive, isn’t the same thing as designing library aboard a time ship.

Rip huffed a laugh, his hands linked behind his back.

“My exact thoughts,” he agreed with a small nod, his mouth twisted into this familiar half-smirk. His head cocked to the side, “I gather that means that you’re going to do it.”

Mirroring his smirk, Jax gave him a nod, his smirk softening into a grin at Rip’s satisfied sigh, unconsciously pushing his shoulder back in pride at the Captain’s silent endorsement. Clearing his throat, Rip clapped his hands.

“Alright, then. Like said before, we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us,” he exclaimed, pushing away some boxes to the side with his foot, quickly imitated by Jax, “We can get rid of those later, unless you want to keep them for later use,” Rip added, wiping his hands on his hands.

Noticing he was expecting an answer from him, Jax shook his head.

“Captain, we’re being hailed by the Acheron”, Gideon intervened.

It took Jax longer than he’d like to admit for him to link the unfamiliar name to the time ship they had been captured on a few weeks by time pirates. It took a few more seconds to remember the Captain they had been locked with. Still, he was still confused as to why and - how - she was hailing the Waverider. Much to his relief so was Rip.

“What- how can Baxter be able to hail us? The ship’s docked,” the Captain protested, frowning at the ceiling.

“Seeing as you’re the last Time Master Captain Baxter has come in contact with before the destruction of the Vanishing Point, I suppose she tracked the Waverider to 2016,” Gideon retorted, her tone slightly exasperated. Jax could practically hear the ‘duh’ implied in that sentence.

“Still doesn’t explain the how,” Rip muttered to himself before clearing his throat, “Patch it through my study, would you,” he added louder as he started walking away.

“Yes, Captain.”

As if only remembering about Jax’s presence at the moment, Rip snapped his fingers and turned around, walking backward with a finger pointed at him.

“We’ll discuss the details later, Mr Jackson. As of now, the study is opened for you to work if needed be. I suppose you’ll know where to find the toolbox,” he barely waited for his positive response as he continued speaking, “You’ll find the blueprints of the ship there. If there’s anything else you need, I’m at your disposition,” Rip finished, giving a small bow.

Barely registering the gesture, Jax gave another nod, a small frown on his face as the Captain twisted back on his heels.

“Hey Rip?” Jax called, his tone hesitant when Rip spun back to face him, an eyebrow cocked in question. He let out a breath, his stare unwavering and sure as he met the older man’s gaze, “I just want to let you know that I’m really invested in this team and project. I won’t let you down.”

Smiling at the vehemence of the statement, Rip gave him a crooked, yet genuine, grin and tilted his head to the side.

“I never expected you to, Jax.” 

“Maybe you should wear gloves,” Rip swerved around at the sudden intervention, his gaze falling onto a concerned Kendra, bundled up in clothes and carrying two large cups fuming of something, “it’d be safer.”

For a second, Rip found himself surprised by her mother-like tone, talking to him as if she was scolding a misbehaving child that had ignored all warning and touched the burning oven door, too eager to taste the baking goods in it. He took him a second to remember that she had been a mother. A mother that had lost a child she had barely even met. Because of Savage. Because of him.

Clearing his throat, Rip tore his gaze from her to gather his thoughts and took his finger out of his mouth, grimacing at its redness. Looking back at Kendra, he tried a smile.

“Nah,” he shook his head, “I can’t do anything with gloves, I like to feel the pieces of machinery beneath my fingers,” he shrugged, his arms crossed, “is there something I can do for you, Miss Saunders?”

Kendra blinked back at him, slightly taken aback by the abrupt change of subject, before looking down at the two drinks she had been carrying. Lifting back up her head, she shot Rip a small smile and made her way to him.

“Actually, there is something I can do for you,” she let out a chuckle at Rip’s confused tilt of head, “Jax and Ray decided to take a little break and we thought that our dear Captain should too,” she explained, holding out a cup to him, “you’re useless to us, exhausted and ill.“

He let out a bark of laughter and half-heartedly accepted the drink, bringing it to his nose and taking a cautious sniff, much to Kendra’s amusement.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I have no doubt Miss Lance and Mr Rory would use the opportunity to turn my ship against me.”

“Please,” Kendra snorted, leaning against a wall as she took a sip of her drink, “Gideon would scatter us throughout the worst periods of History if we, as much thought of mutiny.”

“Indeed I would,” came the A.I’s light, monotone response, “Immediately and without an hesitation.”

With a smirk, Rip raised his cup to the ceiling in a silent toast.

“Loyal to a fault, Gideon,” he declared, “loyal to a fault.”

“I aim to please, Captain.”

With a fond shake of head, he wrapped his fingers around the warm mug and, not bothering to blow on it or wait for it to cool, took a long sip of the drink. Rip let out a surprised, yet pleased, hum as the hot chocolate liquid flowed down his throat, leaving a peppery taste and instantly warming his entire body. There was no way that had came out of a can or the ship’s fabricator – was the fabricator still working? He would have to check on it later.

Noticing his stunned expression, Kendra’s mouth broke into a wide, pleased grin as she hugged her mug closer to her chest.

“It’s good, right?” Still bemused, Rip could only give a nod in response. She returned the nod, giddy, “Mick made it,” she added nonchalantly.

And Rip almost choked on the second sip he took out, his stomach churning at the mention of the pyro, and looked up at Kendra, his eyes wide-opened and ready to spit the liquid out of his mouth. First confused at the Captain’s horrified reaction, her own eyes widened in realization. Face palming, Kendra let out a chuckle, which did nothing to reassure him.

“No, no, no, it’s all good,” she quickly assured, taking a sip of her own drink to prove her point, “See? There’s nothing bad in it. Well,” she tilted her head to the side, wincing a bit at the taste, “except for the unhealthy amount of rum Mick poured into it.”

Weary, Rip swallowed the chocolate with a loud gulp, letting out a painful cough when it went down the wrong way. Or maybe it was the rum. Or maybe it was the undetectable poison Mick had only poured in his cup, slowly making its way to his heart. Shaking himself out of his paranoid frenzy, Rip held out a hand when Kendra went to walk to him, probably to pat him on the back.

“I’m fine,” he croaked out before he cleared his throat, wiping the corner  of his mouth, “Yeah, there’s definitely rum in there. And not the cheap stuff, that’s for sure,” he added, muttering under his breath.

Sighing, Rip put down the cup by his tools and, after warming his hands, crouched back down in front of the opened panel, finding the previously discarded flashlight a few steps away from him. As he examined the system for further damage with a frown, Kendra didn’t move. He heard her let out a sigh, jumping from foot to foot as if to keep herself warm. With another sigh, he heard her put down her cup and, from the corner of his eye, watched as she dropped in a sitting position, her legs folded under her.

Putting his flashlight down, Rip stiffened a groan and turned to face her, lifting an eyebrow in question. Kendra responded with a smile and shrug.

“I thought you could use the company. Or an assistant, seeing as Jax is busy with Ray,” she explained, pointing to his tray of tools.

As hard as he tried, Rip couldn’t help the twitch of his lips at the genuine tone of the younger’s woman voice. After a moment of deliberation, he handed her the flashlight, huffing a laugh when she grabbed it out of his grasp with a grin on her face. Shaking his head, he turned back to the wires, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Are you alright?” Kendra asked, after a few moments spent in silence.

Frowning, he didn’t look up from his work but tilted his head to the side and hummed, indicating that he had heard her and was paying attention to her.

“I’m fine, it just went down the wrong pipe. Nothing to worry about, Miss Saunders,” he retorted, grimacing at the state of some cables.

“No, that’s not what I meant-“ her hesitance made him look up, his frown deepening at the look of her face. Kendra cleared her throat, “What I meant is… Are you alright? With everything that went one with Savage and everything…”

His jaw clenched, Rip leaned back on his heels so he could really face her. Kendra was staring at him, her eyes squinted and her bottom lip stuck between her teeth. He wasn’t sure if her fingers trembling were because of the cold or because of her nerves. Seeing as she was wearing, he guessed it was the latter. Letting a breath though his nose, he ran his fingers through his hair and shot her a small smile.

“Well, we’ve completed our mission, didn’t we,” he retorted, “Savage is dead, the word is no longer ending and we’ve got you and Carter back. I count it as a success.”

If you were ignore the fact that one of his crew had been brainwashed by the institution that had raised him, that they had ended this expedition with one less member and that he hadn’t been able to stop his wife and child from being killed. Rubbing the back of his neck, he cleared his throat, trying to rid himself of his pessimism, and looked back to Kendra, the latter didn’t look convinced.

“Did we really, though?” she insisted, her tone cautious, “I thought your purpose had been to save your family-”

“It was!” Rip snapped, throwing his pincer to the side. To her credit, Kendra didn’t flinch. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed, “It was. I don’t think if you’ve noticed during those months you’ve spent on this ship, but I didn’t really know what I was doing when I recruited all of you. While killing Savage – and saving them – has always been the ultimate goal; it turned into something bigger when you all came in. Maybe their deaths were a mean to an end,” he bowed his head to avoid Kendra’s gaze, muttering the last few words.

It had been a mean to a better end, Rip reminded himself. All of it had been thought beforehand. He had spent years wondering if it had been meant to be, deliberately calculating each of his moves only to find himself holding Miranda’s and Jonas’ lifeless corpses for the umpteenth time. He had been spend years wondering if he was supposed to live in an endless loop of misery, wondering how he could break it only to find out that it had been pre-written for him. No matter what he did, whatever choice he made, he wouldn’t be able to change anything. Because in some messed up, tragic way: it was meant to be.

“You don’t really think that,” Kendra whispered, breaking him out of his reverie. Not even letting him the time to reply, she fixed him with a stare and kept talking, “If you really believe that their deaths were a mean to an end, it means that Aldus’ death was meaningless. Just a ploy in their games,” she spat, her stare holding a familiar fire. While he knew that her anger was directed at him, he couldn’t but lean a bit further from her, “and that’s not something I’m about to accept. Neither should you.”

Rip found himself gaping at her, his mouth dry and his throat tightening, Kendra breathing heavily, a hand on her chest as she leaned back, her eyes wide-opened in realization.

“Sorry, I didn’t-“ she stammered out, brushing her hair out of her face.

“You needn’t apologize, Kendra,” he interrupted her, lifting a hand, “It’s just… It turned out that every choice that I have ever made was been premade for me. I’ve been taught to trust and have blind faith in a group of people that would, in the future, turn against me. Sorry, I don’t really know what to think lately. he added with a shrug, running his hands over his face.

Her face softened into a small smile as she grabbed her mug back, holding it to her chest.

“You needn’t apologize, Captain,” Kendra repeated, doing her best impression of Rip’s British accent, much to the latter’s bemusement, “You know, I found out that every choice in my life had been already made for me, not that long ago. An older version of myself even told me that I was doomed if I were to live another life that the one people decided for me. Still, it doesn’t stop me from trying to live this life as if I didn’t already have thousand of years of existence.”

Kendra couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the absurdity of her situation, earning a snort from Rip. Smiling down at him, she kicked his leg with her foot.

“Blowing the Oculus was the first step. The second is to take back control of your life,” she lifted a shoulder, as if it was the easiest thing to do.

It probably was, Rip found himself thinking. He had meant it when he said that nobody controlled him. Now that all strings had been cut, he found himself with a blank blackboard in front of him and the ability to wrote his own future. His lips pursed, he shot Kendra a tight-lipped smile and gave her a nod.

“Wise words, Miss Saunders,” his smile turned into a smirk at her second eye roll, “I supposed that picking you lot wasn’t so bad.”

“Right,” Kendra snorted, “We’re probably the worst crew ever known to man. You, however, are a pretty good Captain, Mr Rip Hunter. And a good man, overall.

Rip was the one who snorted, this time, an eyebrow cocked in incredulity. Clearing his throat, he grabbed his pincer back and turned to the opened panel. Kendra took it as her cue to take back the flashlight and shined it into it.

“Not sure about being a good man,” he muttered – Kendra didn’t know if he was talking to himself and responding to her, “But I can try to be a good Captain by repairing this and saving this entire crew from freezing to death. Kendra, if you would?” he added louder, pointing to the tangled mess of cables.

With a frown, she directed the light to the wires and watched as he carefully took of the plastic off of it, knotting the end of it as he went to look for another wire, repeating the same process he did on the previous one. Wrapping the two together, he grabbed the hot soldering iron from its holster and proceeded to melt both ends together, under Kendra’s curious gaze. Letting out a breath, he put the tool back into its place and got to his feet, quickly imitated by the woman by his side. Kendra turned the flashlight, holding her breath as he closed down the panel and threw her a look. The corner of his mouth tugging upward, Rip nodded to the lever next to her.

“Shall we?”

With a grin, she lifted up the lever, her smile widening when she heard the soft whirs of the machinery start up and felt the hot coming through the vents. Kendra let out an incredulous laugh and took off her scarf and gloves, turning back to Rip. The latter stood in front of her, seemingly satisfied.

“Gideon?” Rip inquired, looking at the ceiling.

“The Waverider’s heating systems have been restored to 100 pour cent, Captain,” Gideon answered.

He couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips, Kendra’s bright grin reflecting his own joy. Suddenly appearing at his side, she wrapped him in a tight embrace, breaking the hug before he could even have the chance to react. Beaming, she kept her hands on his arms; her palms pleasantly warm on his skin.

“You did it!” Kendra squealed, squeezing his arms.

“Did you think I would not? Ye of little faith, Miss Saunders,” Rip frowned, faking offense, “Beside,” he added as he picked up his jacket from the floor, quickly shrugging it on, “I had a great assistant. I’m serious, ” he insisted at her eye roll, “manning the flashlight is the most important work of all.”

This time, Kendra snorted, her newly discarded coat hanging from her arm.

“Hey, Rip!”

Rip looked up at the call of his name, frowning as he saw Ray standing on the other end of the hall. It wasn’t his sudden appearance that made him frown, though, but rather the fact that he was wearing one gauntlet of the A.T.O.M suit on one hand while carrying a tablet with the other. Noticing Kendra standing by his side, Ray stopped in his tracks.

“Oh, hey. Didn’t know you were here,” he grinned sheepishly at her, waving in greeting. She returned the gesture, amused.

“Is there something I can help you with, Dr Palmer?” Rip intervened, knowing that if he didn’t, the other man would probably forget what he came here for and began a conversation with his former fiancée.

“Yes, actually. If you’re done with rerouting the heating system, I could use your help in the cargo bay,” he asked, his gloved fingers drumming against the screen of his tablet.

“I thought Mr Jackson was the one supposed to help you,” Rip asked, his head tilted to the side and his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Suspicion that was, apparently, well founded if the nervous titter that left Ray’s lips was anything to go by. Rubbing the back of his neck with his bare hand, he ducked his head to avoid his Captain’s expectant stare, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times, at loss for words. Clearing his throat, Ray lifted his head and shot Rip a small smile, quickly sobering when he responded with a cocked eyebrow.

“Um, Jax had too much of Nana Rory’s Special Chocolate Brew and,” Ray took a step back, squinting his eyes at Rip in anticipation, “he might or might not be drunk…?”

Kendra choked down a laugh, her lips pursed and a smile too-innocent-to-be-genuine plastered on her face when Rip turned to glare at her. Her shoulders shaking with supressed laughter, she covered her mouth with a hand and shook her head at him. Rip groaned, running his hands over his face.

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, letting his hands fall to his sides, “Lead the way, Dr Palmer,” he sighed.

Though confused, Ray gave him a slow nod before turning around, slowly walking away. Letting a chuckle escape her lips, Kendra wrapped her arms around herself and cocked her head to the side, both of her eyebrows up.

“What was that about picking us up not being that bad?” Kendra asked, frowning in fake confusion, only to received a blank look from Rip.

“Famous last words, Miss Saunders. Words,” he pointed a finger at her, “that won’t be spoken again any time soon.

Kendra gave him a solemn nod and mimed zipping her lips, earing a snort from Rip. Shaking his head at her, he let out a long-suffering sigh and went to follow Ray, his back to the younger woman.

“I knew this whole chocolate mess would come back to bite in the arse, one way or another,” he muttered.

Kendra’s laugh echoed through the Waverider’s halls, following him as he made his way toward the cargo bay. A smile tugging at his lips, Rip found out that was a sound he could get used to.

He’s closely followed by his usual entourage, both of them freezing at the threshold. Sara crosses her arms and narrows her eyes at the wheel, as if it had personally offended her. Mick stares it for a moment before letting out a snort and making his way to the fridge. Ray frowns at him as he gets a beer out of it and shakes his head, choosing to ignore it. Instead, he grins sheepishly at Snart and Sara, the two staring back at him with a blank expression.

“It’s a chore wheel.”

“Yes, I can see that, Raymond,” Snart drawls, rolling his eyes, “What I’m asking is what is it doing here?”

Sara hums in agreement, tilting her head to the side and waiting for an explanation. Ray finds himself gaping under the two’s unwavering stares, his previous satisfaction and smile slowly vanishing and his mouth dry. Closing his mouth, he clears his throat and rubs the back of his throat.

“Well, I just thought that it would be nice for us to split chores between ourselves. Y’know, we won’t be able to function without a system.

Again, Sara hums, this time, in unison with Snart. Letting a breath through her nose, she runs her finger through her hair and shakes her head.

“I don’t do chores,” she says, her nose wrinkled.

“And I don’t care about well-functioning systems,” Snart adds, “We’ll have to agree to disagree. I didn’t came onto this spaceship to play maid. We have Gideon for that.”

“First of all, it’s a time ship, not a space ship. Secondly, Gideon is by no means a maid, Mr Snart,” Rip Hunter intervenes as he barges in the kitchen, an already made and warm cup of tea between his hands,” she’s a fully-aware, almost sentient A.I with the ability to drop you in a timing and place of her choice. That being said, I’ll have to admit, Dr Palmer,” he turns to the taller man, his brow furrowed, “that I do not see the necessity of a chore wheel.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees a small grimace appear on the thief’s face, probably repulsed by their Captain agreeing on something with him. His eyes wide-opened in disbelief, Ray fully turned to face Rip.

“Maybe you didn’t see its necessity when you’re living on your own, but seeing as you’ve got a team of seven grown adults sharing living quarters. This place is prompt to get messy as hell,” he insists, letting himself hope at the hesitancy he can see in his eyes.

Snart doesn’t seem as if he’s being convinced. Nor that he intends to be. Ray watches, with dread, as a small, conniving grin appears on his face. He takes a step forward and Ray instinctively takes a step back, his back crashing into the cupboard behind him. Snart snorts, his grin turning into a sly smirk as he places a hand on Ray’s arm.

“How about an alternative?” he proposes, his eyes narrowed and his head cocked to the side. Turning his gaze to Rip, he cocks an eyebrow at him, “Got a pen, Captain?”

Though weary, he slowly takes a pencil out of his front pocket and hands it to Snart. The latter accepts it with a satisfied smirk and, turning back to Ray, reaches for the chore wheel, ignoring the other man’s stuttering protest as he tears off the wall with two fingers. Frowning down at it reproachfully, Snart clicks his tongue and shakes his head, slowly taking off his fellow teammates’ photo – except for Ray’s – off of it. Ray watches, with a horrified expression plastered on his face, as he uncaps the pen and scribbles on it, keeping it hidden behind his arm. He chokes down an angry protest when Sara leans over Snart’s shoulder and snorts into her mug. Seemingly pleased with his work, he gives himself a nod and turns back to Ray, holding up the wheel in front of him for everyone to see.

“Here you go, a brand new chore wheel that I think will please everyone.”

Rip rolls his eyes at the sight, groaning as Ray hesitantly takes it out of his hands. Where had been the photos of his former teammates, is his name. He’s pretty sure he’s seen Rip’s name written a couple of times. Looking away from it, he meets Snart’s smug expression, an eyebrow cocked, and crosses his arms.

“I didn’t think it was necessary for either Mick or I to be on it, because,” Snart explains, lifting a shoulder, “We don’t want you. Neither does Sara,” At that, the blonde nodded, “Speaking of the others, I actually like Jax and neither should Kendra or Stein have to deal with it. The first, because she has suffered enough and the other, because I feel some sort of respect for him. Must be the old age,” he adds, muttering.

Ray, too awestruck to respond, just keeps staring at him, gaping. With a mocking smile, Snart reaches out and spins the small handmade arrow, gasping in fake-wonder what it inevitably lands on Ray’s name.

“Would you look at that? Thank you, Raymond, for your kindness and devotion for this team. That chore wheel didn’t turned out to be such a bad idea,” Snart’s smirk widens when he notices Stein, Jax and Kendra enter the kitchen, “You guys, right on time. Our regular Prince Charming here, just volunteered himself to make breakfast for the entire team.”

Ray keeps silence as a wide grin breaks onto the professor’s face and Jax’s shoulders drop in relief.

“Thank God,” the younger man sighs, “I was getting tired of eating cornflakes. No offense,” he adds, patting Rip’s shoulder as he makes his way to his chair.

A few moments later, Ray finds himself overwhelmed with requests as each member of the team scream their breakfast orders. Rip stays aside, leaning against the kitchen counter and settling on sipping on his fourth cup of black tea. Eventually, the Captain notices the helpless looks Ray keeps sending him and lets out a long sigh, putting down his cup.

“I’ll help,” he mutters, half-heartedly working on the scrambled eggs Sara had asked for, the latter leaning over his shoulder and criticizing his cooking every five second.

Ray lets out a sigh and begins to mix the pancake preparation, muttering under his breath about conning thieves and abused kindness.