Much as he adored Lisa, Leonard Snart had never been the sort to coddle anyone, yet here he was, sitting in his own bunk, with a sick and drowsy Sara Lance propped up against his chest.
"Thirsty," she mumbled.
Without a word, he reached for the hi-tech, supposedly spill-proof bottle of juice that Gideon had supplied him with. He carefully raised it to her lips so Sara could drink - it was his bunk after all, and he didn't want to have to clean up a mess.
She swallowed, then made a face. "Got anything stronger?"
"Did no one ever tell you not to mix booze and cold meds?" he replied, parroting her earlier words.
Sara made a face that was probably meant to be menacing, but missed the mark, considering that she was currently as weak as a kitten. (He knew, having been in a similar state quite recently.)
Snart smiled softly down at the top of Sara's head, knowing she couldn't see it, but spoke in his normal snarky drawl. "Tell you what - once we're both up and about, what say we help ourselves to a bottle of the good stuff from Hunter's stash?"
"It's a date," Sara murmured, as her eyes drifted shut.