Sara slammed the doors of the cupboard and all of them looked up at the loud noise, bracing themselves for what was to follow. Leaning against the sink, Ray unconsciously slowly slid away from her, hugging his bowl of cereals to his chest. Jax narrowed her eyes at Sara’s trembling body and had the good sense to keep as much chairs between them before digging back into his food. Kendra’s gaze darted from one person to the other, her grip tight around her coffee mug. While seemingly amused – and slightly weary - the pair of thieves barely looked up at the blonde, Mick munching on a cupcake while Leonard leaned back in his chair, waiting for the inevitable outburst to happen. His nose buried in a book, Martin let out a hum before bringing his cup of coffee to his lips, enjoying the silence while it lasted.
Heavily breathing through her nose, Sara slowly began to turn around, her trembling hands clutching an empty box of Lucky Charms.
“Who. The. Hell,” Sara looked up, her face blank but her eyes murderous, “Finished. My. Cereals.”
“Not me,” Kendra, Ray and Jax immediately retorted, automatically taking a step away from her.
Her jaw clenched, Sara cocked her head toward Leonard. The latter responded with a smirk and indifferent shrug. Her lips twisted into a snarl, she crossed her arms and glared down at Mick, the latter not acknowledging her presence. She restrained the urge to stomp her foot down in annoyance and, instead chose to clear her throat loudly.
“What about you, Rory?” she inquired, her voice falsely sweet and her smile vicious, “You wouldn’t know anything about it, would you?”
Looking up at her, Mick cocked an uninterested eyebrow and scoffed, mimicking his partner’s posture.
“I have no idea what you’re yapping about, Blondie,” he shrugged, shooting her a smug smile.”
As Sara and Mick entered a stare-off, Jax apparently decided that it was his cue for him to stand up and made his way to the door, the rest of his toast hanging from his mouth. The knife lodging itself into the threshold made him stop in his tracks and slowly turned around, ignoring Ray’s incredulous ‘where did that knife even come for’ as he stared at the smaller blonde.
“Was that really necessary?”
“Yes, it was,” Sara reluctantly broke her staring contest with the pyro, turning around to glare at Jax, “No one is leaving this kitchen until someone,” she stressed out the word, her gaze darting to Mick, “confesses.”
“Aw, come on!” Jax groaned, swallowing the rest of his bread, “we already know who did it.”
“Wow! Careful there, kid,” Leonard intervened, balancing his chair on its back feet, “You know what they say about snitches, right?”
As if on cue, Mick energized his gun and flashed the younger man a shark-like smirk, sniggering when Jax took a step back and hit the back of his head against the threshold.
“Jax isn’t snitching because we all already know who did it,” Sara hissed through gritted teeth, the previously intact box of cereals now reduced to pieces as she glared at the couple of thieves.
Both of them remained unfazed, if anything they looked more amused than afraid – well, Leonard was amused, Mick looked like his usual bored, disinterested self. Looking up at the fuming blonde with a sigh, he brought the bowl to his mouth and loudly slurped the milk, relishing in the way her eye twitched angrily at the noise. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he dropped his bowl back and leaned back into his chair.
“Like I’ve said before, I don’t know why you’re talking about since I didn’t touch your precious box of Lucky Charms.”
“My name is written on the goddamn box,” Sara spat.
Both Leonard and Mick made a show of looking at the damaged box, as if searching for her written name before shrugging in unison.
“You should’ve written it in bigger letters,” was all Mick said in justification.
“Plus,” Snart added, “Aren’t we supposed to be a happy, loving family? Sharing your own box is the very least you can do, Lance.”
“It’s the principle!” she exploded, throwing the box at the pair of thieves, whom had no problem avoiding it.
Huffing, she ran her fingers through her hair before crossing her arms, her jaw clenched as she looked around the room, trying to compose herself. She froze when her gaze fell onto the small, plastic figurine placed next to Mick’s bowl. She went to grab it, scowling when he slapped her hand away and tapped the barrel of his gun against the table as a warning.
“Finders keepers, Birdie,” he grumbled.
With a swift movement and not an ounce of hesitation, Sara buried a second knife between his hand and the toy, ignoring Snart’s whistle as she placed her hands on the table and got in Mick’s face, their noses nearly brushing.
“This was in my box, therefore it is mine,” she breathed out, a mirthless smirk plastered on her face, trying to reach for it again only to have it slapped away a second time.
With a growl, Sara lifted a closed fist to which Mick responded with powering his gun. Ray rushed to stand between the two, wrapping a gentle hand around the blonde’s wrist as if it would stop her. Gulping as he found himself on the other end of Sara’s glare, he cleared his throat and shot the both of them a small smile.
“Guys, I’m sure we can talk this out without resorting to violence, right?” Ray proposed, his tone slightly pleading.
“We could do that,” Snart agreed, much to the other man’s surprise, “Or-”
Quickly snatching the figurine out of their reach before they could protest, he threw it in the air and blasted it with his cold gun. Nodding in satisfaction as he watched the frozen toy fall back onto the floor, Snart slung his gun over his shoulder and turned back to the trio, all of them staring back at him in disbelief and shock.
“We could chill things down,” he finished with a smug look and a nonchalant shrug.
For a second, all they could do was blink at him, speechless - whether it was because of the pun or what he had done, he didn’t know. Not that he did care. They all seemed to snap out of their trances at the same time.
“I can’t believe you just did that-”
“-I can. I’m surprised he did it, but not... that…surprised-“
“It’s a matter of speaking, Ray-“
“Damn. I wanted to start a collection with those-“
Through the chaos, none of them noticed Rip entering the kitchen, a tablet tucked under his arm and a hand wrapped around a mug. He stopped at the entrance for a minute, appraising the situation with a look before he let out a sigh, pulling the previously thrown knife out of the threshold and throwing it onto the counter. Patting Jax’s shoulder in greeting as he passed him by, he put his mug next to the s stove before going to move in front of Ray, the latter still standing in front of Sara as if he could stop her from attacking, and taking the second knife out of the table with a frown. Twirling the weapon in his hand, he made his way back to where he had left his cup and, after accepting the kettle Kendra was handing him, filled it with tea to the rim before doing the same for the younger woman. Sighing in satisfaction at the warmth emanating from it, Rip took a long gulp of it and before looking up at the still arguing duo, an eyebrow cocked. Clearing his throat, he turned to Kendra, the latter looking up at him with a mix of frustration, amusement and a touch of curiosity. Her curiosity turned into confusion when he mumbled something about it being better for her to cover her ears, but she knew better than to question him.
Smirking, Rip turned away from her and, putting two fingers under his tongue, let out a sharp and long whistle, his smirk widening when they all winced at the noise. Jax startled at the noise, shaken out of his trance, while Ray turned to him, his eyes wide-opened as he rubbed his ear on his shoulder. Huffing out a laugh, Kendra took her hands off her ears and gave Rip’s shoulder a light punch, to which the latter replied with a shrug. He frowned as he noticed Martin’s absence of reaction, snorting when he saw the headphones he was wearing. Letting out a sigh, he turned back to the now silent – Thank God – pair, only to be met with glares.
“Now,” Rip smirked, undeterred, “who wants to start?”
“These two,” Sara snarled, her glare turning to Snart and Mick, “stole my cereals.”
Swallowing his reply about what was she expecting from thieves, Rip crossed her arms and narrowed his eyes at her, his gaze going from Ray, the latter shrugging at the look, to Jax who had focused back on his foggy cereals, before it fell back on Sara.
“I was under the impression that every one on this team was an adult,” he said, frowning.
“And I was under the impression that you actually knew what you were doing, but I was wrong,” Snart shot back, ignoring the Captain’s glare as he looked back at Sara, his head tilted to the side, “And I didn’t even touch your disgusting cereals, Lance.”
“You aided and abetted, Snart,” Sara spat, rolling their eyes at the confused looks, “My sister studied law and my father‘s a police captain: don’t look so surprised. Beside, that is not the point. The point’s Mick finished my cereals and he won’t even own up to it-“
“Wait, wait,” Rip interrupted, holding up a hand because he still couldn’t believe what the fight that had gone for almost thirty minutes was about, “You’ve really been arguing about cereals? You’re aware we’ve got at least hundred of cereal boxes stocked on this ship.”
“It’s the principle,” she cried out, her tone almost hysterical as she ran her fingers through her hair, “and they were mine. If he wanted Lucky Charms for breakfast, he could’ve open another box that wasn’t mine.”
Rip let out a groan, his eyes closing as he rubbed his face with both hands. With a sympathetic grimace, Kendra reached out and patted his shoulder.
“I wouldn’t have been eating your cereals if someone hadn’t finished my cupcakes,” Mick retorted, ignoring Rip’s muffled groan.
“Beside the box was almost empty,” Ray intervened, a tentative grin on his face, “It wouldn’t have made sense to open another box,” he ended with a shrug. He took a step back when she turned back to glare at him, a nervous titter leaving his lips, “But what do I know. I’m going to stand over there.”
Ray quickly made his way to where Kendra was sitting, trying to disappear behind her despite his size. Rolling his eyes at the other man’s attitude, Rip tried to focus on the main argument that was going between Sara and Mick, readying himself to intervene if needed be while wrapping his head around the absurdity of the situation. Absurdity, sadly, that wasn’t unfamiliar to him these days. He could practically see another argument brewing between the two. Sure enough, a moment later, insults and accusations were flying, Mick’s heat gun resting onto the table while Sara scrambled for knives.
“-I’m saying it ain’t fair for me to admit and apologize for eating cereals when no one apologized for eating one of my cupcakes,” the thief casually threw in, lovingly stroking his weapon.
Rip restrained a groan, because were they really fighting about cupcakes now? He should’ve kept rations – despite their blandness, they were nourishing enough - and should’ve never bothered with getting them actual food. Too caught in his own thoughts, he didn’t notice Sara’s devious smirk before it was too late. Watching with a frown as she silently and calmly made her way to the fridge.
Dread set in his stomach as Rip slowly pieced everything together, watching Sara getting the box of strawberry cupcakes out of the fridge before she made her way to the sink.
“What do you think you’re doing, Blondie?” Mick asked, his tone translating the wariness Rip felt.
Sara turned back to him, her grin sweetly vicious and her eyes revengeful as she indifferently a pastry between her hands.
“Getting even,” she answered, letting the cupcake slip between into her fingers and into the food shredder.
The noise of the food – perfectly fine food - being destroyed was drowned by the loud gasps of outrage and indignation. It didn’t took long for Mick to jump out of his chair, his gun pointed toward the snickering blonde as she kept throwing pastries into the sink, her faked innocence long lost. Of course, Snart followed suit a couple of seconds later, because why wouldn’t he? Ray, ever the chivalrous one, tried to prevent the destruction of some cupcakes, stealing same out of Sara’s reach while the latter was too busy taunting Mick to notice. Kendra – blessed her soul – kept out of the conflict, watching with wide eyes until Ray forced cupcakes into her hands, asking – begging - her to do hide them in the pockets of her sweater. Jax watched the entire ordeal, fascinated, whiled shoving the end of his cereals – surely for lack of popcorn – into his mouth. Martin, ever the smart one, kept to himself, blissfully unaware as he continued his reading.
“Captain, if I may-“ Gideon started, intervening for the first time in the conflict.
“Please do,” Rip replied pleadingly, his hands already covering his ears as he readied himself for the assault of noise that he knew was to follow.
Sure enough, the loud sound of a honk being blared echoed into the ship, causing the argument to stop – once more. Despite knowing what was going to happen and protecting his ears, Rip could still feel the slight buzz following the loud noise. Hell, the reverberations had been powerful to cause the professor to jump, alarmed. Shaking his head with a wince, he braced himself for the protests that came next.
“Seriously, why-“
“-I’m pretty sure I’m deaf!”
“And I’m pretty sure you’ll be dead if you don’t stop shouting, Boyscout.”
“What?”
“What the hell, Rip ?!”
Turning to Sara, he met her glare with one of her own and crossed his arms.
“What the hell is right, Miss Lance. Have every single one of you gone insane? I mean, seriously,” he turned his attention to the gun-wielding duo, “is there really a reason for you to have your guns, in the kitchen at 9 in the morning?”
“Well, obviously,” Snart shrugged, after exchanging a look with Mick and powering his gun.
“Beside, you never know when it’ll be needed,” Mick added, a lazy smirk on his lips.
Watching in bewilderment and caution as he pointed his weapon back on Sara, ready to fire, Rip came to stand between the two, a hand held out in front of him as if it would protect them from the blast.
“OY! Did I not make myself clear enough for the both of you?! Put that bloody thing away!” he ordered, his accent thick as he shouted, “I swear, it’s like dealing with a bunch of kids every single day. Actually, I happened to have a kid,” he added with a sardonic smirk, “Barely 10 and still, more behaved than any of you.”
Oblivious to the sudden silent that followed his words – and to the somewhat guilty looks each exchanged - Rip rubbed his face with both of his hands, trying to come up with a solution that would please everyone. Pacing the length of the kitchen, he barely noticed Snart and Mick putting down their guns and sitting back down while Sara sulked, leaning against the sink behind her and looking mildly chastised.
“Alright,” Rip announced, stopping at the end of the kitchen and turning on his heels so he could face the entire – surprisingly quiet – team.
He gave Jax a grateful nod when the latter tapped Martin on the shoulder, informing him that his attention was needed. With a sigh, he grabbed a roll of paper situated on the top of a cupboard and moved back to the table, pushing away food and dirty dishes so he could unroll it on the surface. He couldn’t help the satisfied smile that appeared on his face when they all gathered around him without a word. He cleared his throat, frowning down at the blank paper.
“Alright, how about I,” he got out a marker out of his back pocket and, after a silent headcount, quickly sketched designs of what looked like a large container with eight different sections, each named after a crewmember “make sure that each of you got their own space to stock their food, uh?”
Rip held his breath as he lifted his head from his drawing, trying to gauge each reaction. He noticed, with relief, hat none of them seemed averse to the idea, just thoughtful. The narrowed eyes of one Leonard Snart made him realize that he had been realizing that it was soon to be in a celebrating mood. Swallowing his groan of frustration, Rip crossed his arms and tilted his head to the sight.
“Something the matter, Mr Snart?”
“Yeah. Jax’s section is unfairly bigger than the rest of our own,” he retorted without missing a beat.
“You do realize that this is a rough drawing, right?” Rip deadpanned, his grip on his pen tight as he tried to keep his temper in check.
Snart responded with a shrug and a taunting smirk, while the others leaned over the drawing trying to see what had caught the thief’s attention. Rip’s eye twitched.
“I’ve got to agree with Snart, Jax’s section is larger,” Sara confirmed, frowning at Rip.
“No, it isn’t,” Jax protested, his head tilted to the side, “Beside, it'd be logical if it were, I’m the youngest one on the crew: I need more proteins. Hence, more food. Hence, more space,” he added, a smug smirk on his face and his arms crossed.
“You’re 20,” Ray frowned at him, “I’m pretty sure your growth has hit his peak.”
Rip sighed, letting a breath through his nose, as the arguing got louder. He didn’t even have the heart to protest when Snart pried the marker out of his grasp, his hand clenching into a fist.
“I suggest than since you and the dear Professor share one combustible body, you shouldn’t mind about sharing a cupboard of food,” he proposed, colouring Jax’s and Martin’s section, blending them into one, “And have the extra space divided between Mick and myself. Does that arrangement please everyone?”
“No, it doesn’t!” Jax retorted, glaring at the smirking thief.
“It would only be fair if yourself and Mr Rory also share a compartment,” Martin intervened.
“Not helping, Grey.”
“What I don’t understand is why you need to share the extra space between the two of you,” Sara jumped in, trying to snatch the pen out of Snart’s hands, groaning when the latter held it out of her reach.
Then followed an entire tirade about how Kendra and herself should have the largest compartments, seeing as women had given up enough throughout the course of History. Kendra kept to herself, leaning back against the wall as if trying to hide within it, while Martin tried to reason about the inconvenience of two people sharing a compartment and Ray tried to play mediator between Jax and Mick. Letting out a groan, Rip leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling in silent pleading before his eyes fell back onto the knives discarded near the stove. Following his gaze, Kendra quietly made her way and slowly took the weapons out of his reach. Rip groaned again.
Shaking his head, he grabbed his - now cold – mug of tea and made his way out of the kitchen.
“Hey, are you going?” Ray called.
His jaw clenched, Rip turned back to face them, his entire crew staring at him with divers degrees of confusion, and plastered a sardonic smirk on his face.
“I am going to lock myself in my office and try to drink myself into oblivion and if that doesn’t work, I’ll try hitting my head against my desk until I fall unconscious. If that’s all right with all of you, of course.”
“Ooh, that sounds fun. Can I help?” Snart asked, throwing the marker up and down.
“I think I’ll manage, Mr Snart,” Rip hissed through gritted teeth, willing himself to not rise to the bait, “Beside, it seems your help is much needed here.”
The thief responded with a nod, smirking back at him.
“Just trying to be of assistance, Captain,” he retorted, both of his thumbs up.
Clenching his fists, Rip restraining himself from lifting a different finger in response and settled for rolling his eyes before walking out of the kitchen and toward his study. Downing his cold drink in one-go, he grimaced as he stepped onto the bridge, the doors automatically closing behind him, and cleared his throat. Wincing as he heard something fall and break onto the floor, Rip let out a sigh and fell into his command chair, his feet going to rest on the board.
“Gideon, you would tell me if I had gone completely insane, right?” he asked, putting his mug in front of him before leaning forward so he could grab a dusty bottle of moonshine from under the dashboard.
“I would indeed, Captain,” came Gideon’s reassuring answer.
Humming, he wiped away the few cobwebs that had stuck onto the bottle before he uncorked it with his teeth, spitting the cork away.
“And just out of curiosity, what are the chances of them killing each other if I were to lock the kitchen doors until they come to a compromise?” Rip wondered aloud, pouring the beverage in his mug.
“Seeing as Miss Lance seemed to have found herself in possession of two new weapons, I would say that they are high. Also, I would recommend against taking such a drastic decision, Captain.”
Letting out a snort as the slight reprimand he could hear in her voice, Rip leaned back into his chair and took a sip out of his drink. Wincing at the taste and burning sensation the alcohol left after its passage, he cleared his throat.
“Always the wise one, Gideon,” he croaked, letting out a small cough.
“I try my best, Captain.”
Straightening in his chair, he took another swing of his drink, slowly getting used to the burning sensation, and ran his fingers through his hair.
“Alright, then,” he sighed, “I’ll be working on determining our next destination. Please, do make sure I’m not disturbed unless one of them is badly injured, I’ll call a meeting after this all ‘cereals and equal spaces’ debacle is resolved. I trust you’ll know what to do if things escalate, won’t you?” he added with a smirk.
“Are you giving me free reign on choices of action, sir?” Gideon shot back, her tone slightly coy.
Stiffening a laugh, Rip gave a non-committal hum and jumped out of his chair, making his way to his study, his mug in one hand and the bottle in the other.
“Don’t sound so smug, Gideon,” he mocked chastised, dropping his drink onto his desk, “it’s unbecoming of you. But yes, I am. I have complete and utter faith in you.”
“Rightfully so.”
Snorting, he shook his head in fond exasperation before he moved to his record player and put on the first vinyl he grabbed from his shelve on it. Dropping the needle, he began bumping his head along with the music as the Beatles’ A Hard Day’s Night filled the space. Falling into his chair, Rip focused on the maps displayed on his desk, the music drowning the screaming and arguing.
Unsurprisingly, the peace didn’t last for longer than ten minutes, the fire alarm cutting through McCartney’s Hey Jude. Sighing, Rip dropped his compass and leaned back into his chair.
“Gideon,” he called.
“Activation of the kitchen sprinklers in three… two…one-“
Rip didn’t have to wait for the assault of reactions and indignations.
“Seriously-“
“This. Is. All. Your. Fault!”
“-You’re all idiots. Honestly-“
“-Ray, if you put that suit on, I’ll swear to God-“
Rip snickered, his arms crossed over his chest as the argument slightly quietened. Letting out a sigh of relief, he looked up at the ceiling.
“Ah, what would I do without you, Gideon?”
"The thought would not even cross my mind," came the A.I’s immediate, deadpan response, "And with all due respect, I would rather not think about it."
this work is a part of the moments on the waverider series
you can also find it on archiveofourown.