Possible AU to the ending of 2.15, but maybe to 2.16, depending on timeline preferences. Because some people wondered if Rip knew who the Backstreet Boys were, and I decided to write it. Enjoy!
When Rip requested her presence in his quarters out of the blue, Sara thought it would be about something related to the mission, or the future, or something else concerning all manner of peril. He’d poured himself a drink, staring at the glass with the eyes of a man who looked he was haunted by a lifetime of tragedy (which, he really was, admittedly), but when he spoke, the question that came out of his mouth almost made Sara drop her own whiskey-filled glass in sheer surprise.
“So why the ‘Backstreet Boys’?”
“Wait, what?” She swiveled her head around to look at him, raising a brow in confusion. Then she remembered her jab at the men on the ship, and chuckled. “Oh, that was just.. a joke. Why?”
Rip gestured offhandedly. “Well, after you mentioned them, I got rather curious about the reference and had Gideon run a search,” He explained. “Although I’m still not quite sure how you equivocate the males on this team with a disbanded pop boy-band that grew out of style in the late 90′s, even as a jab.”
Sara crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head. “Have you even heard one of their songs? In your time or 2016 they might not be popular, but those of us who grew up with them still talk about them, you know. And they didn’t really break up, they just... took a hiatus.”
“I was considering doing just that, actually.” Suddenly, realization dawned on Rip’s face and he raised a finger at her, looking, quite horrifically in Sara’s opinion, amused. “You... enjoyed them. A lot, I gather. Oh, Miss Lance, I never took you for the type to enjoy such music. I thought you’d be into edgier stuff.”
Sara went pink up to her ears and bristled. The bastard was actually making fun of her. “They were a guilty pleasure!” She defended. “And you know... I may have had the hots for one or two of them when I was younger, okay? But their songs were catchy.”
Rip scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I’m sure. I’m assuming so much that they unfortunately get stuck in your head.”
“At least they’re not Rebecca Black,” Sara blanched. “It took forever to get ‘Friday’ out of my head when I first heard it. Seriously, Rip, they’re not that bad.”
Rip groaned sympathetically at the mention. “Oh yes. Now that has to be the most abominable song in the entire universe, both future and past.” He gestured to the radio. “Go on then, Miss Lance. I had Gideon reproduce a CD from between 1998 and 1999, during the zenith of their popularity. We’ll see if they’re not as bad as you say and if I enjoy them as much as you do.”
There was a playful expression on his face that Sara could never remember having been there before. She didn’t even know if Rip could be playful; willing to be challenged, yes, but there was no hardness in his eyes. This was purely for fun, a relaxed friendly challenge that Sara nevertheless felt herself rising to meet. She flipped the CD on, and waited.
They went through several songs: Don’t Want You Back, Quit Playing Games With My Heart, and Everybody (on which Rip looked at Sara as if she’d grown an extra head when she stared to dance a little), before Rip decided he was adamantly not a fan.
“For the time period, I suppose it’s quite... catchy,” He used Sara’s earlier phrasing. “Therein lies the problem, however. It’s all fun and redundant, there’s no true emotional connection to any of it. It’s all just voices and words on a page. Sorry, Sara, it’s just not my style.”
Despite being a little put out, Sara shrugged it off, chugged a drink, and let it slide. Rip was from the future, after all. Opinions and tastes on things didn’t always line up. No one’s did. So she didn’t take it personally that Rip had appeared to be almost forcefully against a band she had once (and guiltily, still did if she was being honest) loved.
But over the course of the next several days, she could’ve sworn she heard various Backstreet Boys songs coming from his room. Once or twice, she even heard him humming the lyrics of ‘I Want It That Way’ and would stop immediately once she or anyone else was in close enough proximity to hear him.
Another time, Sara walked past Rip’s room and smiled when she glimpsed him grooving about, noticing the way he tried to cover it up as an unbalanced stagger as she passed.
On the fifth day, his obsession had peaked. He’d accidentally woken all the disgruntled members of the team blasting ‘Shape Of My Heart’ all night.
He had the audacity to look slightly embarrassed when Sara appeared in the doorway, laughing at him. “Not your style, huh?” She teased.
A light blush touched Rip’s cheeks, and he looked at her with his head lowered in a way that Sara thought was adorable as hell. “All right, perhaps a little bit,” He admitted.
When the song shifted to ‘As Long As You Love Me,’ Rip held out his hand as he had only once before, which now felt like it had happened lifetimes ago, when they were both still so broken that they feared they may never repair. “May I have this dance, Sara?”
The flirty smile on his lips had Sara more than a little stunned. When had he become so forthright? Much less, in flirting with her? She grinned, and she practically threw her hand into his. “You may, Captain Hunter.”
His hand on her waist felt more personal, and more natural, than before. Something had undoubtedly changed between them since his brainwashing and her taking up the mantle of Captain, but this was an even further step. And hilariously, she had to thank a lingering childhood attachment to a groovy boy-band for it.
