Oh, get your minds out of the gutter! Shitty week = more fluff.
Sara was hiding something, Len knew it. He just couldn't figure out what. Suddenly all their card playing and boozing was happening in his room. Every time he stopped by her's the door would remain shut. She was either 'changing her clothes,' or 'about to get into bed.' They weren't together,but it's not as if they hadn't dressed in the same room occasionally over the past few months, or even slept together, for whatever reason. There was no call for Sara to be shy around him.
The damn ship was in on it, too. Whatever it was. There was no lock invented that he couldn't pick. Not unless there was an artificial intelligence unit actively blocking his efforts.
The really weird thing was that Ray suddenly seemed to be…allergic to her. There was no other way to explain it. Any time he was in proximity to Sara, his eyes would puff up and he'd go all snivelly and sneezy. Although Snart could handle Pretty Boy's discomfort with astounding equanimity, it was another piece of a puzzle that he just couldn't seem to crack.
He took to haunting the corridor just around the corner from her room, but he could never manage to catch a glimpse of whatever was going on in there. Mick laughed and told him he had it bad. Snart just shot him a sour look and didn't bother to correct him.
The day he finally did manage to solve the riddle, he wasn't even thinking about it. It was the day that Sara was shot, unable to move quite fast enough, because she was protecting a group of school children.
"Let me in, Gideon," Len demanded, standing outside Sara's door.
"Miss Lance is resting, Mr. Snart."
"Miss Lance has been shot, Gideon, and I need to make sure she's all right, so open the damn door before I get my gun and make one of my own."
The door slid open without further ado.
And there is was - the mystery solved at last. A ball of sooty grey fur was curled up against Sara's side. It sat up as he approached. A kitten? No, a cat, and not even a terribly attractive one, at that. The beast was missing one eye, and bits of the opposite ear. And it hissed at him.
Sara's eyes blinked open woozily. "Wha? Len?"
"This is what you've been hiding in here? Seriously? A cat?"
She bit her lip adorably. "Didn't think Rip would let me keep him."
"Seems to me, if his own ship is willing to conspire with you, he doesn't stand a chance."
Len perched on the edge of the bunk. The cat glared at him balefully, then settled back against Sara.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like I've been shot."
"That's to be expected, I suppose. Why didn't you just tell me about your little friend here?"
"I dunno…I guess…I didn't think you'd understand."
"What's to understand? It'll annoy Rip, and it's wreaking havoc with Pretty Boy. I'm in."
Sara chuckled softly, but her eyes were fluttering shut.
"Do you need anything?"
She shook her head faintly.
"You want company?"
"Yeah."
Len unlaced his boots and dropped them on the deck, so he could slide into the space next to Sara. "Keep your claws to yourself," he told the cat.
The cat blinked inscrutably, then settled himself between the two humans and began to purr.
