#and it does not matter if ed and jack slept together

[follows-the-bees]

I think the most important part to focus on is that Jack died Looney Tunes-style after having a western stand off with a seagull. Good riddance.

[vidavalor]

There's something kind of sweet and also heartbreaking about the changes in Ed's sleeping arrangements aboard The Revenge.

We don't know where he was sleeping when Stede was unconscious but since they had, technically, just invaded The Revenge and since we do know that Ed spent a ton of time watching over Stede, it's safe to say that he probably slept on the couch in Stede's quarters. It would be odd for a pirate captain not to just take over the other captain's quarters after taking over the ship. Plus, it gave Ed the excuse to look after Stede and go through his fascinating stuff with some privacy. But after Stede wakes up?

We see several instances of Ed sleeping on the deck of the ship. There's the marmalade scene where Stede brings him breakfast "in bed" and Ed had been asleep up at the front of the boat. Another scene shows them having breakfast again, with Stede bringing Ed tea and the fact that they're having it on deck and Stede brought it to him indicates that Ed was still sleeping on deck. Ed hangs out in Stede's quarters during the day and is plenty comfortable sprawling on the furniture but when it comes to where they are sleeping at night, once Stede regained consciousness, Ed didn't sleep there. When they almost kiss in the moonlight after the party, they go in opposite directions to sleep for the night and Ed again goes back to his spot on deck. What's interesting about this is that Stede has a perfectly good couch.

He's also literally *The Gentleman* Pirate-- like, there's no way that he didn't offer Ed that couch. It means that Ed wasn't sure how he felt about staying the night in Stede's rooms while Stede was conscious, which is a far cry from how he basically lived there when Stede was unconscious. Ed doesn't seem to particularly care who knows about him and Stede and he and Jack were hardly a secret so it's not a matter of not wanting rumors to spread with the crew. They probably would not have thought twice about Blackbeard getting some form of actual bed to sleep on, as opposed to sleeping on deck like many of the rest of them. It's almost as if Ed was already pining so badly by this point that he didn't think he could get through sleeping in the same spot as Stede all night.

It's also respectful and gentlemanly. It's showing consideration for The Gentleman Pirate. :)

We do see that Ed is comfortable enough to claim the couch for a nap during the day (hilariously, right when Stede is getting everything set for their treasure-hunting date) and Ed's general comfort with being in Stede's quarters and sharing his things happens from the start pretty organically. Ed just doesn't want to sleep there at night, though. Too much of a reminder of what he would like and, at that stage, could not have.

Then, there are events that keep them from sharing a sleeping space, even if they wanted to. The night Ed spends on the beach with Jack. The bunk beds they are assigned (and don't really end up sleeping in) at privateer camp. Everything goes wrong and then goes right and then goes wrong again. The first night that they were going to spend sleeping in the same spot with both of them conscious was whatever sleep they got after rowing away from the dock in the finale but Stede didn't show. Then, we have Stede (barely surviving lol) sleeping Mary's bed, where he does not belong, and we have Ed rowing all the way back to The Revenge just for the last shot of him in the season being him sobbing in Stede's bed, alone without the man he'd wanted to share it with.

I guess what I'm saying here is that there's almost no way we don't get some kind of cuddly, literally-sleeping together scene at some point.

[bre-meister]

could you write something about claire comforting leon after vendetta? loving your cleon fics! 😊

So this kind of combined with a fic I was already in the process of writing. Then I re watched Vendetta and it grew even more. I’m still trying to decide if I want to make it a super long one-shot or a multi chap. yet so here, take this sneak peek to tie you over until then! ( Also I don’t have a title for this yet lol, suggestions are welcome). Writing under the cut but be warned it is super angsty and is heavily focused on the topic of addiction so if that is a trigger for you please do not read this. ( Also also, writing addiction is super hard ya’ll)

It’s an inarguable fact that the mission went south. Further than south actually...Leon wasn’t sure if there was an actual word or phrase for how things ended. They’d been so close….so close. But so close doesn’t mean shit when you essentially lead a whole team of agents to their death.

Deep down Leon knows it wasn’t really his fault - they’ ed been ratted out and on top of that they were all just doing their jobs. Jobs for which everyone knew the risks but accepted them anyway. He tries to remind himself that he barely made it home at all - a fact that was becoming scarily too common. But at the end of the day, when the facts were laid bare, it was impossible for him to ignore his guilt due to his actions, or lack of, in what transpired. Leon got to go home, no matter how emotionally or physically battered, he’s home surrounded by his wife and his two little girls. Several of his team members had families - wive, husbands, and kids that will never get to see them again.

Claire tells him every night in bed as she holds him tight - not to break him but to hold him together - that he did everything he could. That he always does everything he can but sometimes, they just can’t save everyone. But he wants to. He desperately wants to. It’s why he became a police officer, why he specifically requested to be placed in Raccoon, why he drove all the way to a doomed city despite being told to stay away. It’s why he continues to help Ada no matter her misguided morals and sense of self-preservation. Most importantly, it’s why he even began his current job - to protect Sherry. He’d do anything for that girl. In a way, she was his first daughter.

So, he tries to believe what his wife tells him. He tried to bury himself in his work like always, something that has lead to many a disagreement between him and Claire. That only took him so far considering a few weeks after coming home he received a call from Hunnigan informing him that he was being given “vacation” to recover after such a taxing mission - in reality, he knew to was more because of his resurfacing self- destructive and obsessive behavior. When that fell through he began to live and breathe his daughters even more so than usual. That only takes him so far considering, during the day, Isabelle was at school, Claire had work, and little Olivia spent the day at daycare. Technically, now that he was home all the time, Liv didn’t have to go but both he and Claire agreed that no matter how much the little girl would prefer to stay home with Daddy it would be better not to interrupt her routine. His “vacation” really is only temporary and eventually, the daycare would have to start again which means the fight to get Olivia to attend would start again and that was something both parents would rather avoid.

 So, with a guilty conscious and an empty house, Leon did the only thing he could think of - drinking. Alcohol was his main crutch back in the day before he reconnected with Claire. It had taken a good while for him to turn his life around back then and he’s not proud of himself for re-lapsing but in this moment of weakness with no one to stop him…

That’s a lie and you know it. You have plenty of reasons not to do it. Three in fact. They’ll be home soon...do you really want them to see you like this?

 No. The answer was always no. Of course, he didn’t want his family to see him like this and of course, they were a dam good reason to turn away from the bottle. But, one thing Leon has learned in his life is that what should be easy hardly ever is. He doesn’t want his daughters to see him like this so, his solution? Hideaway, keep to himself. 

Separating himself from his family seemed like a good solution but as he spends more and more time away from them, separated by a wall of his own creation, he feels worse. Leon constantly found himself asking, over and over why he does what he does, why he keeps going. Claire, Isabelle, and Olivia were always the answer to those questions so the distance slowly building in their relationships only aided in worsening his guilt and anxieties. So he leans even harder on the Scotch. This means he separates himself even more - a vicious cycle that he can’t see an end to. 

When did you start asking the same questions about your personal life that you did your work? There was supposed to be a separation. Not anymore. Look what you’re doing to yourself, you’re miserable. Your family is miserable. Is that what you want? 

No. The answer is always no. He doesn’t mean to hurt them but he is. Which is why Claire’s words shouldn’t have been surprising.

“You need to leave.”

“What?” He couldn’t have heard her right.

 “I’m serious Leon. I don’t want to have to do this but you have left me no choice. Your complete and utter...disregard for yourself - I don’t want the girls to have to see this. They idolize you and currently, this is killing them to see you like this. Hell, it’s killing me!”

Silence is the only answer he can give her. Currently, his mind is to clouded to argue, and quite frankly, he doesn’t want to.

“Nothing. You have nothing to say? After everything we’ve been through?”

“Angel, I -” She cut him off before he could finish. Honestly, he didn’t know how he was going to finish.

“No, don’t Angel me. That would only make this harder. Look I know addiction is complicated and it’s not an easy thing to conquer by any means. I want to help you but right now I have to put our daughter’s first. I’ll help you all that I can but you need to leave until you decide you want help.”

“Claire, I do but... I don’t like what I’m becoming but I can’t. I don’t - “

“If you really mean that you’d be able to properly communicate it with me. Until then you need to go find out what the hell it is you want from life. I love you, Leon. The girls love you too, you’re their Daddy but you have to start making an effort to at least try.”

At that she grabs his face, gently - Claire is always gentle with him - and she kisses him. It feels like a goodbye. Or at least, it should. In reality, he just feels numb. When they break apart she holds him tight, with the hope that maybe, if she holds tight enough, she can keep him together.

“Take some time.” she says, “You just need some time for yourself to find out what you need. And once you do I’ll be here to help you get it.”

And that was that. He’d held her tight as well and then he packed a bag and left. Leon said his goodbyes to his daughters that night as they slept. When they awoke he would be gone and there would be tears but he didn’t have it in him in his current state to face them in their little faces and explain why he had to go away for a little bit.

 He was a good man once, Claire said he still was, that he had just lost his way for a little bit. He hopes she’s right and that he can become the man that he was once - the husband and the father that he yearns to be.

 So, he takes some time to himself in a quaint town in Colorado. Or at least he tried to until the BSAA’s Golden Boy and Doctor High Hopes jacked his “vacation”.

[stillthewordgirl]

LOT/CC fic: Subterfuge (ch. 2 of 6)

Subtitle: “Five Times Sara and Len Nearly Got Busted–and One Time They Did.” Immediate follow-up to “Date Night.” Sara and Len are trying to figure out their new relationship without cluing their teammates in quite yet. That, however, is easier said than done.

There are a few small Easter eggs here. Thanks to @larielromeniel for the beta! Can also be read here on AO3 or here on FF.net.

It’s not that they don’t want to spend more time alone together. They definitely do. But the Waverider is small, and their teammates are nosy, and there’s no chance to do anything more than share the occasional short talk, or a few minutes in the training room, or the briefest kiss.

Not if they don’t want to spill the beans, anyway.

Len, frankly, wouldn’t mind at all. Hell, he’d sort of like to scream to the hills that he’s slept with Sara Lance. (Not that sleeping had all that much to do with it, but whatever. He can do euphemisms.) That he has every hope and intention of continuing to sleep with Sara Lance. That he’s…

That he’s pretty sure he’s falling in love with Sara Lance.

He's never felt this way in his misspent life before, but it doesn't matter. He knows. It's unnerving and exhilarating at the same time.

He's not sure she feels the same. He hopes she does, or that she'll get there. But in the meantime, well…some time would be nice.

But even…especially…on a time ship, that's in short order. Right after their date night in Central City, they get bit by a wave of aberration reports, one right after another, and then a wave of time prate activity right on top of them.

Eventually, it's so frenetic that the team splits up. Amaya, Stein, Nate and Jax go to 2015 Orange City to deal with a confused and angry group of would-be members of the Spanish Inquisition. (Nate and Ray happily toss Monty Python quotes at each other until Sara separates them.) Sara, Len, Mick and Ray head to late 1800s New York City to keep time pirates from pushing William Randolph Hearst and Joseph Pulitzer into instigating the Spanish-American War sooner than the timeline demands.

Once there, Sara, making a snap judgment on the abilities of her people, sends Ray and Mick to Cuba in the service of the New York Journal and the New York World, respectively, and takes Len to the streets of New York City to try to stop the special (and fortunately, very limited) editions both papers had printed with very similar (and thoroughly fake, fed to them by the time pirates) stories blaming new, creative and fictitious Cuban atrocities on Spain.

War will still start, but it needs to start in April 1898, not before.

Len, a former street kid of sorts (his Lewis having died considerably earlier than Earth-1’s Lewis, leaving him and Lisa to the streets for a few years, something that’d turned out to be rather less damaging than the alternative) had appealed to the newsies who already had the papers. Well, in all honestly, he’d bribed the hell out of them, having done his usual amount of research before leaving the Waverider and appealed to Gideon for a copious sum of 1898 currency. She’d calculated the amount that could enter the U.S. economy without ill effect, then grudgingly provided it, Len having figured out how to sweet-talk her nearly from day one.

The kids are willing to hand over the papers provided Sara and Len pay them even better than they could have earned for a long day of work. Sara, eyeing their ragged thinness, hands over perhaps a little more money than she strictly has to. From his slight smile, she’s pretty sure Len notices—and does the same.

Still, it occurs to some of the older, more cynical newsies that they could get some cash and still have the papers to sell…all they have to do is wait and take them back from this pair of “soft” and apparently rich folk.

Despite how everything eventually works out, Sara curses herself for being off her guard, for being a little too self-satisfied at being able to help these kids, forgetting that one doesn’t live long on the street by being unwilling to take chances and do things that aren’t, precisely, on the side of any angels.

“Ow!” She stares down at her bleeding wrist, at the…oh, hell, interior of her bleeding wrist, exposed by an unexpectedly sharp blade held in the hand of a filthy and mutinous-looking teenager, who scowls at her just before he reaches down and grabs a bundle of the newspapers, starting to back away.

“Are you kidding me?” she tells him incredulously, before kicking the knife out of his hand and grabbing the papers back with her non-injured hand. “I know we just gave you, like, double your daily take.”

“Sara?” Len’s at her side and scowls at first the injured wrist and then the teen, who’s just foolish enough to scowl back at him. A pair of compatriots move to his side, then another, and they’re all clearly trying to decide whether or not to rush the pair of unexpectedly competent intruders.

Len shakes his head, then pulls out a somehow still pristine handkerchief and gently wraps Sara’s (now quite painful) wrist in it. She lets him, keeping an eye on the boys, hearing the others they’d paid off scurrying away. She doesn’t blame them; most of them are just kids, and even with her wrist, the biggest part of taking this lot down will be not hurting them too much…

But then, another teen is there, shoving the one who’d held the knife backward, standing between him and Sara and Len. He’s shabby like the others, but not quite as disreputable-looking, somehow, and there are a few other kids lingering around with him, like they’re letting him take the lead.

Len, who’s still scowling mightily and holding Sara’s wrist, snaps out, “Who the hell are you?”

“Jack Kelly,” the boy—the young man--tosses over his shoulder. “Get outta here, you two. You OK, ma’am?”

“I’m fine,” Sara grits out, even as she knows she’s not. If she doesn’t get back to Waverider, there could well be damage, especially since the blade had been quite dirty. Infection doesn’t respect League training. “Thanks.”

“Don’ mention it.” The young man eyes his opponents, then yells, “Scrapper!”, nodding as another, younger boy steps up.

“Make sure ‘dose bundles stay here,” he orders, then glances back at Sara and Len. “We’ll make sure these papers don’ get out.” His sharp gaze sharpens a little more as she eyes him. “Yeah, I get it. You got some reason not to want dese to spread. And you don’t seem like the ‘oh, my husband’s in da police news’ type…call it instinct. You helped dose kids: you didn’t have to pay ‘em extra, but you did. We’ll help you.”

Len nods back, and Sara gets the impression he recognizes a kindred spirit. “Got it,” he clips out himself. “Thanks.” Then, switching his grip to Sara’s good wrist and catching her eye, he tugs it.

And with one more glance at the standoff behind them, they’re gone.

“You get to the medbay,” Len tells her as soon as they’ve made it back to the Waverider, parked on a New York City rooftop. “That looked bad. I’ll check on Mick and Ray, and the others.”

Sara wants to argue, but the handkerchief is soaked through now and her wrist hurts like bloody hell. She nods, and they split, Len to the bridge, Sara to medbay.

Gideon, once her sensors have gotten a good look at the wound, reports that nothing too important (in other words, tendons: Sara knows perfectly well she’d already have bled out if an artery had been hit) has been damaged, but the injury’s in desperate need of cleaning. Sara settles in to let the medbay tech do so, sighing and closing her eyes as the wound is numbed.

The process also has a soporific effect, and the next thing she knows, she opens her eyes at a sound to see Len not quite rushing in the doorway. He relaxes as he sees her, slowing to a saunter to make his way across the room at a more leisurely pace.

“I told you she was fine,” Gideon’s voice tells him somewhat tartly. “I was not going to wake her up just to assuage your paranoia or your distrust of my assurances.”

“Forgive me, G,” Len tells the annoyed AI smoothly, eyes still on Sara. “I’m an…evidenced-based…guy, myself. I trust you, just had to see for myself.” He pauses right at the bedside…well, chairside, since she hadn’t reclined the seat. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Sara repeats, amused, studying him and then glancing at her arm, still wrapped into one of the medsleeves used for minor (and sometimes more major) repairs. “Gideon? Am I done?”

“You are, Captain Lance.” The AI still sounds slightly irritated, although a little mollified by Len’s apology. “The wound is clean, and the edges are sealed. Keep it wrapped and try not to use that hand too much for a little while, but it should be fine.”

“At least it’s my off hand,” Sara murmurs, gently pulled her arm out and studying the thin new scar there. “Thanks, Gideon. Seriously. That knife was filthy.”

“There were indeed some dangerous bacteria in the wound.” Definitely mollified now. “You are forgiven, Mr. Snart. Worry is a very human trait.”

It may be, but Sara also notices that Gideon no longer even pretends to act like she’s not capable of hurt feelings or irritation. Smiling, she gets to her feet, but Len’s standing so close that she has to halt right there, studying his expression.

“You were worried?” she says after a moment.

A slight smile, but the way he glances away tells her more than any words. “Well, as you said, that was filthy,” he murmurs. “And you were really bleeding. I was…concerned.”

“Ah.” She studies him. “The others?”

“All well.” He perks up a little. “Amaya said her group is dealing with things just fine, but it’ll be a little while yet. Unexpected complications.”

“Of course there are.”

“And Ray and Mick say to tell you they have it in hand. They’re working together to utterly confound their ‘bosses’ until the time comes.” He snickers. “They’re having fun with it. Ray’s a little surprised to see what a good writer Mick is.”

Len, however, isn’t, Sara notices. “Good,” though, is all she says. “So…it’ll be a little while?”

“Until they’re back? At least a day, for Amaya and crew. Longer for the others.” He blinks at her…then narrows his eyes. “At least a day.”

“And our part is done.” Sara licks her lips. “Gideon? Is it?”

“Very few of the limited editions got out, and Mr. Rory and Dr. Palmer are now providing the papers with such conflicting and wild information that it will not be effective for the time pirates’ purposes. And they have already left the time period, presuming that they can simply come back and reap the benefits of their warmongering.”

Their eyes meet again.

And then Len moves a little closer. “I think you need to go rest. In your room.”

“I need to go rest,” Sara agrees, looking up at him. “In my room.”

They stare at each other.

Then, moving just slowly enough that Sara could certainly pull away if she wants to (she doesn’t want to), Len steps forward and sweeps her up into his arms, right off her feet, making her laugh as he turns for the door, heading toward the captain’s quarters she’d taken over not so long ago.

“I can walk!” she tells him mock-sternly, even as she wraps her arms around his neck and leans into him.

Len smirks at her. “I know. But let me be dramatic.”

“Since when has anyone ever managed to stop you?”

He snickers, but by that time, they’re at her room. Gideon opens the door for them before they even get there, which would be a bit creepy if it wasn’t so handy, given that they’re already kissing as Len moves them over the threshold, and toward the bed.

“Captain Lance? Mr. Snart?”

Len groans as the AI’s voice penetrates his consciousness, rousing him from a sound sleep. Sara burrows into him with a sleepy and annoyed murmur, burying her head in his collarbone, but then sighs, pulling away just a little.

“What?” she says with annoyance laced with concern. Gideon really wouldn’t bother them without reason, Len knows, but that doesn’t mean they want to let reality enter their warm cocoon. (His natural body temp is a little lower than the average, but between the heat they’ve generated and the insulation of the cover, it’s quite cozy.)

“Mr. Rory and Dr. Palmer are approaching the ship…”

“What?” Sara sits bolt upright, and while the view is lovely, Len’s a little distracted himself, trying to figure out how much time has passed while they were so thoroughly enjoying themselves.

“They brought the jump ship back,” Gideon tells them. “The current timeline is stable and as it should be.” She pauses. “It seems the time pirates found them out much sooner than we anticipated and came to eliminate them. It did not work.”

That’s good, but… Len and Sara both groan. “They didn’t…” Sara starts.

“The pirates are in the custody of the Spanish authorities, rethinking their life choices.” Gideon’s tone might almost hold amusement. “That is Dr. Palmer’s choice of words. Also, one or two may be slightly singed.”

“And there’s Mick’s.” Len sighs. He glances at Sara, who’s eyeing him, and realizes just what she’s thinking. It’s not at all what he’d like her to be thinking. “You want me to get outta here before they can figure out where we are, don’t you?”

She sighs, bringing her legs up to her chest (damnit) and wrapping her arms around them.

“This isn’t how I’d prefer everyone to find out,” she says quietly. “So…yes. Please don’t take it…”

“It’s OK.” He can be patient. He can. Especially if it means a potential future with Sara Lance, and more of the activities in which they’ve spent the past day or so. Peeling back the covers and climbing stark naked out of bed, he hunts down his clothing…then realizes something that might clue any interested observer in. “Crap. Uh. Well, hopefully I can get back to my room before either of them sees me.”

“Hmm.” Well, at least Sara’s watching his little exhibition with that particular mixture of smugness and desire, but she blinks at his words. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t have much reason to be wearing 1890s street clothes, let alone such worn ones, around the ship.” Len brandishes his trousers at her. “These aren’t that comfortable.”

Sara’s lips twitch, but she nods as Len, grumbling, pulls the pants on. “I see the problem. Gideon, help Len get back to his room OK? Avoiding the others?”

“I will do my best, but it’s not like Mr. Rory is predictable.” The AI’s tone is frank, and perhaps a little amused.

Len rolls his eyes, buttoning his shirt. “Yeah, yeah. OK.” He pauses a moment, then crosses back to where Sara is watching him and leans in to steal one more, sadly brief, kiss. “See you later.”

She kisses him back, then sighs and pulls away. “Later.”

“They are now on board. Dr. Palmer has asked where you two are. I’ve reported that the captain is in her room…and that you are heading for the galley.” Gideon’s tone is definitely amused. “It is, strictly speaking, true. Your room just happens to be on the way, yes?”

Len rolls his eyes, amused in turn that the AI is showing so much of the personality he’d always suspected she has. “Yes, indeed,” he drawls, picking up the pace. “And where are they?”

“Dr. Palmer is in the library, checking something. Mr. Rory is heading for the galley, but taking a different path, but so…ah…actually…Mr. Snart!”

And then, just before Len gets to his room, Mick rounds the corner ahead of him, pauses, and does a 180 to consider him.

“So. Weird Snart,” he comments, folding his arms. “S’up with the clothes?”

And so much for no one noticing. Len lifts his chin and decides to power through. “I told you to call me Len.”

The other man shrugs. “Sometimes the other name fits more than others,” he mutters. “Gideon said you were headin’ for the galley. Thought it was from yer room. Why’re you runnin’ around in that get-up?”

“I had to…” Don’t hesitate too much. “…to check something.”

Mick stares. “What?”

I could really use a rescue right now, Gideon. His brain (which has not been the organ in charge for the past half-day or so) doesn’t want to remind him of what’s the other direction besides Sara’s quarters. “…in the medbay. A test.”

A frown. “What kinda test?”

Please, Gideon? “Sara…” When Mick’s eyebrows rise abruptly, Len panics and tries to head off any possible misconceptions. “…there were some weird bacteria in her cuts. Just making sure it didn’t show anything odder than expected after Gideon tested it. It’s fine. We’re fine. We’re all fine here now. How are you?”

Mick gapes at him. Len considers, then decides to cut his losses, gives the other man a smirk, and tapping the door, ducks into his room.

With any luck, Mick will just forget the whole thing. Right?