#meant to answer this sooner but i kept forgetting about it oops lol

[whiskyarts]

Modern Hugo has "Smartest kid in class up until freshman year, in which he didn't do anything for two weeks and immediately failed everything while somehow getting okay grades despite doing minimal amounts of work, cheating, and turning it in late so now he just has a reputation for being bad at school and also pickpocketing and he still has no idea how to get out of this endless loop but he's not failing so he's just rolling with it" and medieval Varian is just like "Yeah I wasn't rich enough to go to school lmao"

Varian doesn't know what school is

[smilinstar]

Fic: this space between us (it’s nothing but stardust and the absence of you) - 3/6 (Legends of Tomorrow; Rip/Sara)

Fandom: Legends of Tomorrow

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Rip Hunter/Sara Lance (Time Canary)

Summary: Or Close Encounters. Five times Rip and Sara find themselves stuck together and somehow manage not to make out, and the one time they (finally) do . . .

Author’s Note: Lol this is just an excuse for me to write the tropiest fic full of tropes. I’ve separated it out into six parts, cos the first part ended up being more than the 500 words I was planning. Oops. Please read. Please enjoy. And maybe let me know? :-)

Can also be read on AO3

Part I | Part II

] III [

2017, Unknown Location

Central City, U.S.A.

-----

 “How do we always find ourselves in these situations?”

“I’ve been asking myself that same, exact question.”

He hears her sigh, her shoulders brushing against the back of his as she literally shrugs it off. “Guess trouble just likes to find us.”

“Find you, Captain Lance.”

“Hey, I’m not here by myself.”

He doesn’t need reminding. She wasn’t supposed to even be here.

The plan had been for him to get caught. Not the both of them.

And yet somehow, here they are, tied to chairs, back to back, and nothing but grey, stained walls around them, boxing them into this room that smells of urine and rot.

It’s a long story. Something about Professor Stein’s fondness for The Flash and extending their services to help catch a ring of particularly nasty bad guys involved in drugs and trafficking and all sorts of other nefarious things. Things Rip would rather not think about. There’s a reason he hates the gang taking vacations back in their present day. It’s not just that he misses them when they’re gone, which he’ll never admit to even on pain of death, but because it gives them ideas. Ideas that their Captain is in no way immune to.

“Yes, well, I was supposed to come alone,” he bats back.

“Yeah, and it’s a good thing I came when I did! You were two seconds away from getting your head blown off if I hadn’t stepped in!”

“I was handling myself perfectly fine!”

She lets out a noise that sounds very much like a disbelieving snort, as if what he’s just said is the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard.

He shakes his head, brushing against the back of hers. Her hair is untied; he can tell because strands of it tickle against his neck, getting inside the collar of his shirt. But his hands are tied to the armrests and he can only take a deep breath in and out through his nose and divert his attention elsewhere.

Except, there’s nothing else in this poorly lit, dungeon of a room to focus it on.

Nothing, and no one apart from Sara.

She must sense his agitation, as she backs down and tries to reassure him, “Relax. The team have got this. It’s a fool proof plan. We’ll be out of here before you know it.”

Now it’s his turn to let the incredulous rush of air leave his nose, as if he can’t quite believe she’d say the exact words fate loves to hear. Words that egg it on to do the exact opposite.

“You just had to, didn’t you?” he grumbles under his breath.

“Just trust me,” she says.

Trusting her isn’t the issue.

The words ‘trust me’ always have a little bit of an inevitability to them, an almost, kind of, famous last words tinge to them.

And just sometimes, sometimes, he hates being right.

He’s not sure how much time has passed. There’s been neither hide nor hair of their captors for hours. The team have yet to make their dramatic entrance for a rescue and he’s sure night must be creeping into dawn now. The small slit of a window in the upper corner of the room showcases the changing hues of the sky as time passes.

And time passes achingly slowly.

Sara lasts longer than he thought she would before conceding, “Okay so maybe it’s gonna take a little longer than I first thought.”

The ridiculousness of their situation breeds an unexpected urge to laugh, but he bites down on his tongue to stop himself. He’s not sure she’ll take too kindly to that.

So instead, he shrugs, tries his best to reassure; “Oh no, what’s three hours in the grand scheme of things? Have faith Captain, they’ll be here soon.”

He feels her drop her head back against his gently, can almost feel her deflate with a resigned sigh as she sinks lower in her seat.

“Sara?” he calls out softly, “we’re going to be fine.”

Rip’s not sure if she even hears him; she’s silent for too long.

“Sara?”

“I know,” she breathes out finally.

He nods, “Good.”

He feels her straighten up then, bolstering her shoulders back against his and he can almost sense the resolve tensing through her muscles.

“Talk to me,” she says suddenly.

He startles at the demand, thoughts running wild about what she could possibly want to hear.

“About?” he prompts.

“Anything. This hanging around, waiting to be rescued, is making me antsy.”

This time he does chuckle. Because Sara Lance is no damsel in distress, she can kick and stab her way out of anything, doesn’t need to depend on anyone to save her skin. It’s one of the things he loves about her. Admires. Admires about her.

“Anything’s a rather broad topic.”

“Okay, so tell me some stories of your heroic adventures as a Time Master then. You can’t have been infamous for nothing.”

He shakes his head, “Most of those are stories I’d rather forget.”

“I’m sorry,” she says after a beat, and he’s the one left feeling remorse. She hadn’t meant anything by it, but he and the past have a terrible relationship. One that keeps him awake most nights, nothing but self-hatred, fiery anger and the deepest pits of despair wait for him in the land beyond the sleeping veil.

But he’ll admit, he doesn’t suffer so much now.

There’s a lot more light creeping into the dark corners of the Waverider, filtering through into his subconscious and he’s been getting better. Day by day. Slowly. And he thinks it’s the people around him, the family he’s made for himself, that are to blame for it entirely.

“It’s okay, Sara.”

She doesn’t say anything and he wishes he could reach out and hold her hand. Instead his fingers curl against the armrest, nails digging into the wood as he breathes in and out.

“You know, they made us run this exact scenario once before?”

“What do you mean?”

“Back at the Academy. Part of our training was to run through various simulated scenarios, work alone or together to try and figure out how to get out of them with as minimal damage and casualties as possible. Situations from time pirates taking over your ship, to being held captive by your enemy and being dosed with hallucinogenics in an attempt to break you down for details of your mission-”

“Sounds like a party.”

“Ha, not quite.”

“So? What happened?”

“Hmm? With what?”

“You said you had to run this exact scenario once? How did you get out of it?”

“I didn’t,” he answers her, “Miranda did.”

He can sense she doesn’t know what to say, how to broach the subject any further because he doesn’t talk about them. He just doesn’t know how. And maybe it’s because he can’t see her but can still feel her strength soaking through, the soft encouragement of her words as she echoes his own words, “it’s okay, Rip,” that he opens his mouth and speaks.

“Miranda was a smart woman, far too smart for the likes of me. A far better Time Master than I ever was to be honest.”

A smile flickers on his lips as he remembers, “She’d got herself out of those cuffs within the first ten seconds of being caught, fooled them into thinking they had her well and truly cornered, and then when they least expected it . . .” He trails off, leaves the rest to her imagination and his fond memories.

Sara shakes her head, and says with a small laugh, “She sounds like my kind of woman.”

He huffs out a breath, the smile looking more like a grin now, “Oh mine too.” He swallows then, the words on his tongue, ones he’s kept so close to his chest, holding on so tight and he feels his grasp loosening and it’s rather freeing in a way he hadn’t dreamt it could be. “Miranda was smart, brave, fearless and reckless in equal, exasperating measure, but she was also so kind and loyal. Selfless in a way, I can only ever aspire to be. She was . . .” and his voice falters then, swept up in memories of just a fraction of what he’s lost. “She was beautiful,” he finishes quietly.

“I’m sorry you lost her,” Sara says softly, and it’s almost as if he can feel her breath on his skin as she whispers the words meant to soothe into his ear. He’d wanted to hold her hand, mere moments ago, and it’s as if she reads his mind, and he can feel her hand over his now.

He’s not sure what to say to that, but finds himself turning his head anyway in her direction, hoping she’ll understand what he can’t say in words.

But then.

But then, it takes a second to register.

The press of her chin on his shoulder, the feel of her skin pressing into the back of his hand, her fingers filling the spaces between his as she holds on to him, the understanding in her eyes as she holds his gaze. Because Sara Lance knows loss too.

Grief has made its acquaintance with them all; an acquaintance they’d sooner forget meeting than ever invite back, but it never has been able to take a hint.

He shakes his head once and blinks.

No. No, she’s definitely still there.

“How . . ?”

There’s the slightest tilt of her lips as she shrugs, the answer there in her expression.

He shakes his head in amazement, a puff of his breath gently ruffling the hair that falls across her face, “You’ve been out of those ties the entire time, haven’t you?”

She doesn’t really need to say anything, the smile says it all.

“Then why?”

“Part of the plan.”

“And were you ever going to fill me in to what the actual plan was?”

She grins wider, and with their faces so close, his eyes have no choice but to follow the curve of her mouth. “Let me guess,” he says, “Me being in the dark? Also a part of the plan.”

“See?” she says, reaching out to pat his cheek, “Who says you weren’t smart enough for her?”

He shakes his head again, the smile on his lips faltering as her hand stays there on his cheek, thumb brushing along his jaw as she stares back at him.

For one very long second, he thinks his heart stops beating, and it all just falls into place.

Because, really?

He should have seen her coming.

He’s danced this dance once before, after all.

And now he’s literally spelt it out for himself, singing her virtues out loud, and it’s surprising she hasn’t pieced it together.

But maybe that’s not such a terrible thing

Because he’s not quite ready to face it yet, and so instead, he simply says, “You know, I think she would have liked you too.”

Her grin softens into a smile at that, and her thumb strokes his cheek once, twice more, before she pulls away and stands up.

She moves around him and easily undoes his ties. After the last binding is taken care of, she stands in front of him, hand outstretched.

“I think the team have had more than enough time to get the job done. Ready to get out of here?”

He takes her hand.

“Absolutely. Lead the way, Captain.”

Part IV