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Ray stood looking down at the gun he was cradling gently in his hands. Partners. It seemed so long ago that he first suggested it, and Mick hadn’t exactly seemed that enthusiastic about the idea. Back when he still had the suit. Back when you were useful, a bitter voice in his head supplied. Now all he had was their fallen comrade's gun, and a tightness in his chest.
"I meant what I said, you know." Mick's gruff voice cut through Ray's thoughts. He looked up, confused, to see Mick staring evenly at him.
"An idiot did pilot that suit." Ray barely stopped himself from flinching, struggling to keep his expression in check. It somehow hurt more than Sara's cutting words, spat venomously at him in a blind rage. Ray hoped his voice would stay steady, even as he could feel his throat closing. He'd try to see the positives. He could convince Mick that he's still useful. Even though the suit was gone and he's been benched on the sidelines, maybe Mick won't take his offer back and make him leave-
"Snart didn't have a suit." Mick's voice startled him again, and he looked up to see the other man staring contemplatively at the drink he was swirling in his hand. "He didn't even have that damn gun." Mick paused. "He never wanted to be, and he still ended up a hero."
Ray swallowed hard, unable to look Mick in the eye. He's not sure if he would've called himself and Leonard friends, but he still felt his absence every day. Ray could still feel the heavy silences where he almost expected to hear a sarcastic quip or scathing retort in that familiar voice. He couldn't even begin to imagine how Mick felt. Ray gently set the gun down and took a breath to steady himself before speaking.
"I didn't mean-" Ray stopped, taking another breath before starting again. "Snart, Leonard, he died to save you. Us. The team. And I just-" Ray lifted his hands in an abortive motion before dropping them uselessly at his sides. "I pack the lunches." he finished, staring at the floor and willing himself not to cry.
He blinked rapidly; pretty sure that Mick wouldn't want a partner who cried at the drop of a hat. Mick took a sip of his drink before letting out an almost thoughtful hum.
"Now correct me if I'm wrong Haircut," he fixed Ray with that level stare again, an intensity in his eyes that Ray didn't understand, "But didn't you almost do the same thing, not even five hours ago?" Mick asked, raising his eyebrows. Ray’s head snapped back up in shock, mouth dropping open and a few tears escaping. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound came out. The tightness in his chest seemed to get worse.
“Don’t sell yourself short Ray, there are plenty of people in line willing to do it for you.” Ray could only nod mutely, a few more tears falling before his arms could move again and he roughly swiped away the wetness on his face. Mick grabbed a second drink, opening it and handing it over to Ray. It took a few sips before Ray was able to find his voice again.
“Mick I-“ Mick held up his hand, effectively cutting Ray off.
“Less feeling, more drinking.” He said, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a crooked half-smile. Ray couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him, feeling lighter than he had in days. He gave Mick a watery grin, leaning over to clink their bottles together. Mick rolled his eyes.
“Deal.”