grouphugs | [MEME] time to stay warm

[ hey sara, how are you? are you cold? it's pretty cold in this bunker, isn't it? for human beings, anyway, it's pretty cold.

waiting for mr i-have-too-much-body-heat to scout out the tundra, kara and sara have the unfortunate joy of waiting in this frigid wasteland. granted, it's not really fair to call it a wasteland. there are tables and chairs and other proper furnishings for a bunker, but it's boring and kara is tired of waiting around for somebody else's all clear.

feet tapping anxiously, kara cranes her neck to try and peek out the windows. maybe this time, sara won't spot her doing it. subtlety and subterfuge are not her forte, though, so that's pretty unlikely. ]

( it's cold. it's really fucking cold.

yeah, the waverider definitely outfitted her pretty decently, but sara couldn't have possibly imagined the sheer ability of the cold to cut through layers of clothing like a knife. she's sitting in a chair, arms folded over her chest and an expression of sheer consternation, trying to think about anything but the temperature, about how she can see a curl of air every time she sighs.

when it comes to being stuck somewhere in ridiculously cold temperatures, this isn't sara's first rodeo. her gaze flickers over to supergirl — kara — whose feet tap against the hard floor, who looks perfectly okay other than a slight bored air. because she's an alien. an alien who can withstand weather like this. an alien who probably could warm up a human with chattering teeth in a heartbeat.

the thought might've brought a flash of heat to sara's cheeks were the circumstances. instead, she rises abruptly from her chair, which scrapes suddenly and unpleasantly against the floor, and starts to pace around the bunker like a caged animal. maybe the movement will keep her warm, maybe it'll keep her distracted. )

( Helena Bertinelli feels like she's been drawing the short fucking straw for decades, now. Old news is old news: family slaughtered, raised by assassins, bullied by Batman, treated as a monstrosity by just about everyone. That was fine. She could live with it; it wasn't like she'd ever done everything else.

But then things happened the way they always happen, and she got spat out into some other reality. The relief at hearing the word Canary had ended rather rapidly, it must be said. Nothing like finding out one of the only friends you have (three, really, she has basically three friends) either doesn't remember or doesn't exist. She's not sure how all this crap works, that was Barbara's area.

The point is, she's been in a Bad Mood™ for the three weeks she's been stuck in this social hellscape in a flying death trap with a bunch of people whose hair probably belongs in a commercial for conditioner. The ones who shave it off probably did so out of sheer shame (and by the way Captain Cold? Heat Wave? What the fuck, alternate universe?) And now Helena is stuck with Not Dinah, her Not Buddy, in a place where they are Not Warm. Twelve hours to the schedule pick up, mission accomplished, but oh, God forbid that medieval Scotland have God damn heating.

TL;DR - behold, 5'11" of moodiness with a Sicilian accent and murderous-at-best inclinations, reporting for warmth. She's sticking it out from pure stubbornness, but it's concern for Dinah (""""""Sara"""""") that makes her relent from her place sitting with her back against the wall - did I mention she's sulking? )

We'll be warmer if we share it.

( The bed, she means. The one bed. The one bed that is very nice, fit for a Lord, if you are from the Dark Ages. )

Edited 2016-12-22 17:30 (UTC)

( helena bertinelli, she'd said, when she'd boarded their time ship. huntress.

either one was enough to set off immediate warning bells in sara, a sort of you've got to be fucking kidding me. the helena bertinelli that she knows was so hellbent on killing her own father that she went to insane lengths to do so. huntress and the canary had gone toe to toe twice and sara probably would've strangled her to death if laurel hadn't intervened, told her that she didn't believe that the canary had to be a killer. needless to say, she's not on great terms with helena bertinelli.

there are other earths, the legends had learned from barry and team flash, other worlds that could look completely identical to their own but with the most minuscule of differences. sara wonders if that's the case for this helena. she's got the name and the alias, but not the same face. it's eerie. she's trying to look past it, grin and bear it for the sake of the team who don't know better.

of course, sara ends up stuck with this brand new helena in medieval scotland and things are decidedly Not Great. it's freezing, and the ever-so-stylish tartan floor-length gown the waverider had decided to grace her with to "blend in" isn't quite doing the job. she's been pacing around the room like a caged animal, trying to pretend like she's not cold, until helena speaks. she halts abruptly and her head snaps in her direction, eyebrows lifted, like she's trying to discern if helena is being serious.

there's no way in hell, her stubborn side wants to retort. but sara isn't an idiot — she knows how to brave the elements, what's required to do so sometimes. so instead, gaze flickering towards the bed even though she makes no discernible move towards it, she answers, ) You're not wrong.

Listen.

( She bites it out, looking over at Sara - what a fucking joke - and easing herself up. As much as you as you can ease up when you move like an angry tiger, but still. )

I'm not happy about this either, and you can get off your damn high horse. You think I'm a not good enough for your rag tag team of dysfunctional do-gooders? Fine. I've always done what needs to be done and what other people aren't prepared to, though. If I have to strong arm you into a blanket to stop you from getting God damn pneumonia, then I'll do it.

( Her ire seems like the one thing that isn't out of place, unlike her, her kevlar armour and her Sicilian accent rolling harsh over the words and chopping them up. )

[ she'll be the least surprised of all to find out that not every idea he has goes according to plan. this trip, a way to remember the time spent on lian yu, without dredging trauma they've done their best to leave behind. hence the lack of camping gear and solitude in location.

a silver lining; the shelter they put together is holding up, keeping frigid winds from making their night miserable. easier to just be when he's alone with sara; she understands, in ways that no one else ever could, the only other witness to a few of his darkest moments. stirring the fire, he looks across the flames, letting their eyes meet briefly ]

Thanks...for coming. This is what I miss, you know? How free things felt when we were on the island. [ a brief pause, his lips pulling into a smile ] When we weren't constantly near death. [ as much as their campfire is helping, the stark drop in temperature is still winning out ]

You mean there was really a time when we weren't close to death and dying?

( it's definitely a joke, evidenced by the sly sort of smile that starts to tug at the corners of her mouth, but her sarcasm probably isn't all that unwarranted. the temperature's starting to drop out here, maybe not completely life-threatening just yet, but sara's content with using it as an excuse to sidle around the edge of their built fire to sit right next to ollie, lean against him so that she might steal a fraction of his body heat.

maybe this situation isn't quite what the two of them had anticipated, but sara's going to make the best of it; any excuse to spend time with ollie is a welcome one, considering how their paths have seemed to diverge after being intrinsically woven together for so long — since the beginning of everything. life before oliver feels like a third lifetime altogether. she's not ready to let go of him altogether. )

But really, Ollie. I'm glad I came.

[malfunctioning climate controls in a timeship? absolutely.

sorry, captain lance, but nate's taken up refuge in your office because it's the warmest place on the ship. at least until jax figures out what's going on and gets the heat up and running.

feel free to join him as shivers under three blankets while clutching a cup of coffee like it's his only hope.]

( sara's stubborn to a fault — stubborn to the point that she's wearing her warmest turtleneck and, arms folded across her chest, she's pacing back and forth in the captain's quarters, pretending that when she lets out a heavy sigh, she can't see her own breath.

this isn't the first time this has happened aboard the waverider; the last time, death felt like an inevitability, and her company was an actual real life criminal. the thought makes her nearly-purple lips twitch with something like annoyance, makes her want to ditch the room altogether and find somewhere she can tough out the temperature by herself but —

nate just looks so endearingly pathetic, like a puppy abandoned in a box in a back alley somewhere, shivering and sad. it's probably why she sucks it up and climbs into the burrow nate's made for himself without a single word, inching pretty decently close to him and coming to the unpleasant realization that she's been shivering this entire time. )

[Nate's so focused on keeping his teeth from chattering as he sips at his coffee that he doesn't notice her enter her quarters. In fact, it isn't until she shifts the blankets, letting in just a bit more cold air that he realizes he's no longer alone.

He quirks the corner of his mouth upward in a halfhearted attempt at a smile. It's just too damn cold for his liking, and judging by the bluish tint to her lips, it must be for her too.

Wordlessly, he shifts closer to her, until there's just barely any space left between them. Not quite touching, but close enough that she should be able to feel the puffs of warm air that escape as he breathes. He doesn't inch any closer, though he'd like to pull her in for a hug. She looks like she could benefit from more than just huddling beside him underneath his makeshift blanket fort.

Instead, he offers her his mug: the coffee is black with just enough sugar to cut the bitterness.]

Looks like you could use this more than me right now.

( sara decides to ignore any unspoken hesitancy between them and closes that tiny gap of space between them, pulling her knees in towards her chest and leaning in towards nate; she doesn't have the time for anything like awkwardness when she's freezing her ass off and she can feel her teeth chatter unwillingly when she clenches her jaw a little tighter. )

That's reassuring, ( she says dryly, but it comes out a little softer than intended which probably negates the sarcasm. regardless, she takes the mug and just holds it for a moment, eyes fluttering shut like she's trying to absorb every single particle of heat that emanates from the coffee. after a sip and a sigh, it's returned to nate so sara can tug the blankets a little tighter around herself, even if they're already pulled up to her chin. )

Makes me wanna bust into Rip's not-so-secret liquor cabinet. Bet that'd warm us up really fast.

[Leave it to Sara to be ever the pragmatist and take matters in her own hands. It's one of the many reasons why he's glad she is the de facto leader of their little ragtag gang of time travellers. Another being, to his surprise, the fact that she looks absolutely adorable curled up into herself with a blanket wrapped around her as tight as can be. Of course, Nate doesn't have a death wish, so that particular thought is just going to remain locked tight in his head.

He drains the cup once she hands it back and leaves it haphazardly beside him before taking full advantage of two free hands to curl up closer to her and enveloping her in a loose embrace, blankets and all. He sighs, shutting his eyes and just tries to picture being warm.

He imagines summer days, Tahiti, anything really other than the bitter cold that reminds him of his childhood spent living in a rickety old house with single pane windows. His brain sputters to a stop when she suggests breaking in to Rip's liquor cabinet and getting drunk. It's the best idea Nate's heard today and he has to force himself not to smile stupidly at her in response.

It's hard to keep the way she lifts his spirits out of his voice though...]

Surprised you haven't already. What's your poison of choice, hmm?

Dunno if I have one. Whatever's there is fine. ( said with an idle shrug, which does its part to cover how she shifts to settle into his embrace a little more comfortably.

sara might not see that stupidly giddy smile of his, but she sure as hell hears it, can practically feel it. with a short shake of her head, her eyes fluttering closed and her mind trying to think about anything other than the toes that she definitely can't feel even through two layers of knit socks and combat boots, she comments idly, ) Thought about suggesting that you steel up to see if it'd help any, but cuddling up with a freezing hunk of metal sounded pretty terrible. ( selfish, selfish. oh well. sara's been acting pretty selfless lately now that she's the ship's captain, so she'll accept this one solitary lapse.

with a thoughtful hum, she asks, maybe rhetorically, ) You're really gonna make me get up and get that booze, aren't you?

Beggars can't be choosers, huh? [ He might not be saying anything about it, but he's definitely noticed that she seems to be getting comfortable against him. ]

It doesn't feel any different to me, but yeah I mean if you wanted to snuggle with cold metal, there's no shortage around.[To make his point he waves his hand in the general direction of the door.

But this? Curling up with Sara isn't so terrible at all. He could certainly stand for it to be warmer, but still. Nate remains silent for a few minutes, tightens his arms around her, hands rubbing up and down her arms as he thinks about getting up and facing the cold. He shivers and sighs.

With a shake of the head and a smile, he finally replies.] Mm I'm feeling pretty cozy right now. Give me a compelling reason to get up and grab it?

( good thing nate's learning a little bit of restraint with that mouth of his — if any of that happened to slip out, sara'd be showing off some of the league of assassins' finest methods of torture. saying the word "snuggle" when he's the one whose hands are making a valiant attempt at warming her up through friction or something like that is already getting him one step closer to that fate, to be honest.

but, you know. he can smile away, ask him silly question. at the end of the day, there is no way that sara lance is going to be getting up from what she's now claimed as her own personal spot. )

Captain's orders, Heywood.

( and don't mind how smug she both looks and sounds about it. )

[ he knows he's tempting fate by being more forward than usual. nate's seen sara in action often enough that there's little doubt left in his mind that she could and would kill him with just her pinky finger if he stepped out of line. it's why he's not completely surprised that she's pulled out what he likes to call her 'captain voice'.

doesn't mean he can't grumble a little bit as he reluctantly slips away from her and the relative warmth of the blankets. ]

Aye aye, Captain.

[ a salute and he's off to rummage through the liquor cabinet. he grabs a dark bottle, label faded and slowly but surely coming unglued at the edges. he pulls the cap off and gives it an experimental sniff. confident that it doesn't smell off, he takes a healthy slug... and promptly coughs.

he makes his way back, offering the bottle to sara before reclaiming his spot beside her and wrapping himself back under the covers. ]

Strong enough to put hair on your chest.

[MEME] time to stay warm

sara lance.

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you didn't see that terrible fail

a time master is never late........... or something

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