![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ajremixAs much as I enjoy Len and Mick having an ambiguous relationship, it was only a matter of time before I decided to be implicit. Also whoever keeps putting Wentworth Miller in suits deserves a raise is a cruel person. Title from the cover by Leslie Odom Jr. and Daveed Diggs because it came across my dash as I was struggling for something.
Title: Good for You
Fandom: DC TV
Rating: PG-13 for some swearing and dirty talk
Word Count: 1008
Characters: Mick, Len, Ray, Jax
Summary: Set during episode 4. An interlude before the recon mission.
They move toward medbay with matching strides, "What happened to the kid?" Despite the kneejerk reaction to the blood staining Jax's shirt, Len isn't quite worried. Not when he walked in, relatively, on his own and Mick's own lack of concern.
"Looks worse than it is. Took some shrapnel to the gut but it's mostly superficial. Passed out for a bit but breezed through the concussion protocol so doubt there's a head injury. Gideon can check 'im over while I patch 'im up. Probably in more pain than he is danger."
"How'd it happen?" The lights in the medbay come on as they step in and Mick sets to work grabbing what he needs. One of the first things they cased was medical supplies. In their line of work, injuries were expected.
"One of Rip's time fogies teamed up with our robo-buddy, tried to fake him into turning us in and we ambushed 'em instead. Kid got hit with a grenade and the other side ran off." Mick pauses, staring into space as he replays the battle in his mind. "Pretty boring, actually."
Len eyes him momentarily as Mick continues to pull items out with a crispness that, while not surprising, also isn't entirely common. "You got this?"
"Yeah," he tosses his jacket aside, rolling up his sleeves. "Pisspoor fight. Still rarin' to go so I'm focused." He turns to Len, eyes following the turn of his neck where it disappears under his collar, at the popped button and the flash of skin it reveals. "Speaking of which, I'm pretty focused on that outfit of yours." He steps into Len's space and Len drops his arms, leaning back, giving him the room to step in all he wants. "We need another conversation about you wearing suits?"
"Can't say I expected to be wearing them so often."
"Hn. This trip might be worth it just to see you all fancied up."
"Maybe you should take me to fancy places."
"Fuck that. Just gets in the way of the important shit." They press together, Mick radiating heat and desire, words vibrating out from deep in his chest. "Can't wait to ruin this suit, too." His hands slip under Len's jacket, gripping his shirt like he plans on gripping his waist- hot and heavy and not letting go. His voice rumbles and he's so close he can feel arousal shivering over Len's skin. "Gonna absolutely wreck you. Fuck you so hard and long you'll barely be breathing."
Mick might have to give this ballet stuff a watch because whatever he'd gotten up to tonight left Len ready to go, pupils blown wide and there's nothing cold in his eyes now. "You know I never put much faith in words," Len tilts his head, just enough so his breath sweeps across his partner's mouth, lips brushing together and it's so damn unfair that someone so controlled can promise so many filthy things in one word, "Mick."
"Oh! Uh, are we- we're interrupting, aren't we?"
There must be absolute murder in Mick's eyes because just as he's rounding on Ray, Len's got a fist in his shirt, anchoring him in place. "Astute as always, Raymond," he drawls, but the muscles in his neck twitch in effort to keep more caustic words ground between his molars. Rip is already retreating back down the corridor, throwing his hands in the air.
Jax shoulders passed the scientist without hardly seeing him. "Well you two can get it on somewhere else or wait until I'm too drugged up to care." He plops himself on the examination table, hissing as he lays out and the lust and annoyance fades out of the two Rogues. Mick pats his shoulder.
"You taking that shirt off or am I cutting it?"
Jax tries to move onto his elbows and hisses again. "Cut it. Thing's ruined anyway."
"How'd things go your end?" Mick asks his partner, more ripping Jax's shirt more than cutting. "I can smell perfume on you."
"The good doctor isn't attracted to brains." Len's eyes flicker toward Ray briefly, as smug as ever. "Who knew."
"Painfully awkward and annoying ain't her thing? Tough break, Bambi." As he goes to wash up, Mick asks Gideon for a local. There's zero sympathy in his tone.
Ray sighs roughly, "So this is the thing I'm never living down, is it?"
Len steps back so as not to get in the way. "I'm sure there'll be more."
"Can you guys keep it down? My head's killing me and that light is right in my eyes."
Gideon lowers the light and Ray finally spots Mick pulling on gloves. "Wait, you're sewing him up?"
Mick half turns, raising an eyebrow. "You think a man can't sew?"
"No, I just- I didn't expect you, of all people, to know how to do stitches." Len grabs Ray by the arm because he knows that narrow-eyed look of Mick's means he's getting legitimately annoyed. Ray just continues babbling as he's dragged away. "He does know, right?"
"We learned to patch ourselves up. After all it's not like there's hospitals for criminals that takes insurance."
"It's a clinic," Mick adds, fiddling with the settings on the fancy future needle that threads with artificial skin, "but they only take cash. And charge you out the ass."
"You know, I can never tell when you two are joking."
"Congratulations, that's the point." Len shoves Ray out the medbay and lingers in the doorway long enough to say, "Mick." His partner looks up to find that blood-boiling, toe-curling look is back and that a second button has come undone, teasing more skin. "We'll be continuing this later."
He can't help the hungry, crooked grin pulling his lips in response.
"Man, I'm happy you're gonna get some and all, but can you stop eye fucking each other long enough to stitch me up?"
Mick turns back with a scowl, the door wooshing shut as Len leaves. "You're lucky I like you, kid," he says right before he splashes alcohol all over Jax's abdomen.
Title: Good for You
Fandom: DC TV
Rating: PG-13 for some swearing and dirty talk
Word Count: 1008
Characters: Mick, Len, Ray, Jax
Summary: Set during episode 4. An interlude before the recon mission.
They move toward medbay with matching strides, "What happened to the kid?" Despite the kneejerk reaction to the blood staining Jax's shirt, Len isn't quite worried. Not when he walked in, relatively, on his own and Mick's own lack of concern.
"Looks worse than it is. Took some shrapnel to the gut but it's mostly superficial. Passed out for a bit but breezed through the concussion protocol so doubt there's a head injury. Gideon can check 'im over while I patch 'im up. Probably in more pain than he is danger."
"How'd it happen?" The lights in the medbay come on as they step in and Mick sets to work grabbing what he needs. One of the first things they cased was medical supplies. In their line of work, injuries were expected.
"One of Rip's time fogies teamed up with our robo-buddy, tried to fake him into turning us in and we ambushed 'em instead. Kid got hit with a grenade and the other side ran off." Mick pauses, staring into space as he replays the battle in his mind. "Pretty boring, actually."
Len eyes him momentarily as Mick continues to pull items out with a crispness that, while not surprising, also isn't entirely common. "You got this?"
"Yeah," he tosses his jacket aside, rolling up his sleeves. "Pisspoor fight. Still rarin' to go so I'm focused." He turns to Len, eyes following the turn of his neck where it disappears under his collar, at the popped button and the flash of skin it reveals. "Speaking of which, I'm pretty focused on that outfit of yours." He steps into Len's space and Len drops his arms, leaning back, giving him the room to step in all he wants. "We need another conversation about you wearing suits?"
"Can't say I expected to be wearing them so often."
"Hn. This trip might be worth it just to see you all fancied up."
"Maybe you should take me to fancy places."
"Fuck that. Just gets in the way of the important shit." They press together, Mick radiating heat and desire, words vibrating out from deep in his chest. "Can't wait to ruin this suit, too." His hands slip under Len's jacket, gripping his shirt like he plans on gripping his waist- hot and heavy and not letting go. His voice rumbles and he's so close he can feel arousal shivering over Len's skin. "Gonna absolutely wreck you. Fuck you so hard and long you'll barely be breathing."
Mick might have to give this ballet stuff a watch because whatever he'd gotten up to tonight left Len ready to go, pupils blown wide and there's nothing cold in his eyes now. "You know I never put much faith in words," Len tilts his head, just enough so his breath sweeps across his partner's mouth, lips brushing together and it's so damn unfair that someone so controlled can promise so many filthy things in one word, "Mick."
"Oh! Uh, are we- we're interrupting, aren't we?"
There must be absolute murder in Mick's eyes because just as he's rounding on Ray, Len's got a fist in his shirt, anchoring him in place. "Astute as always, Raymond," he drawls, but the muscles in his neck twitch in effort to keep more caustic words ground between his molars. Rip is already retreating back down the corridor, throwing his hands in the air.
Jax shoulders passed the scientist without hardly seeing him. "Well you two can get it on somewhere else or wait until I'm too drugged up to care." He plops himself on the examination table, hissing as he lays out and the lust and annoyance fades out of the two Rogues. Mick pats his shoulder.
"You taking that shirt off or am I cutting it?"
Jax tries to move onto his elbows and hisses again. "Cut it. Thing's ruined anyway."
"How'd things go your end?" Mick asks his partner, more ripping Jax's shirt more than cutting. "I can smell perfume on you."
"The good doctor isn't attracted to brains." Len's eyes flicker toward Ray briefly, as smug as ever. "Who knew."
"Painfully awkward and annoying ain't her thing? Tough break, Bambi." As he goes to wash up, Mick asks Gideon for a local. There's zero sympathy in his tone.
Ray sighs roughly, "So this is the thing I'm never living down, is it?"
Len steps back so as not to get in the way. "I'm sure there'll be more."
"Can you guys keep it down? My head's killing me and that light is right in my eyes."
Gideon lowers the light and Ray finally spots Mick pulling on gloves. "Wait, you're sewing him up?"
Mick half turns, raising an eyebrow. "You think a man can't sew?"
"No, I just- I didn't expect you, of all people, to know how to do stitches." Len grabs Ray by the arm because he knows that narrow-eyed look of Mick's means he's getting legitimately annoyed. Ray just continues babbling as he's dragged away. "He does know, right?"
"We learned to patch ourselves up. After all it's not like there's hospitals for criminals that takes insurance."
"It's a clinic," Mick adds, fiddling with the settings on the fancy future needle that threads with artificial skin, "but they only take cash. And charge you out the ass."
"You know, I can never tell when you two are joking."
"Congratulations, that's the point." Len shoves Ray out the medbay and lingers in the doorway long enough to say, "Mick." His partner looks up to find that blood-boiling, toe-curling look is back and that a second button has come undone, teasing more skin. "We'll be continuing this later."
He can't help the hungry, crooked grin pulling his lips in response.
"Man, I'm happy you're gonna get some and all, but can you stop eye fucking each other long enough to stitch me up?"
Mick turns back with a scowl, the door wooshing shut as Len leaves. "You're lucky I like you, kid," he says right before he splashes alcohol all over Jax's abdomen.
