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“When I order you to do something Lawton, you do that. No questions, no witty remarks, and no disobedience. Is that clear?” said Amanda Waller, her tone calm but forceful. Rick respected her greatly but at times like this, he also feared her just a bit.
And it wasn’t even directed at him. He was standing safe in the doorway, watching how Waller abused Lawton. For disobeying orders, she said. The orders which were to leave the unconscious Rick on the ground and focus on getting the target to safety. Lawton apparently ignored them and went to get Rick and carried him to the plane. At least that’s what he understood had happened. It wasn't like anyone told him anything.
“If it’s an apology you want, you won’t get it,” Lawton replied, completely disinterested in anything Waller had to say. As usual.
“Flag, get him out of here!” Waller said, a note of annoyance in her voice. Rick understood that – he also hated when the squad didn’t listen to him. But his orders never required leaving a teammate to die.
Lawton left the room on his own volition, with Rick immediately going after him. He somehow managed to acquire a cigarette, which he was now lighting. Well, it wasn’t that hard; they were staying in a prestigious hotel where one could get anything from cigarettes to prostitutes.
Rick wondered what would the US citizens do if they knew how their tax money was spent.
It was the last night, though. The next day they will all be back at the grey halls of Belle Reve. Home sweet home.
“Waller’s pretty mad, huh?” he said to Lawton, desperate to find out what had actually happened.
“She’d be just as mad if I let you die, colonel. She just doesn’t like that my plan was better than hers. Hurts her pride.”
“Thank you,” said Rick, “for saving my life.”
Lawton looked at him but didn’t answer. They walked the rest of the way to his room in silence and it was only when they got to the door, he spoke.
“Want to come in for a drink, colonel? There’s some fancy stuff in those little fridges.”
Rick considered. Despite spending half of the day unconscious, he was exhausted. But on the other hand, Lawton did just save his life. The least he could do was to have a drink with him. He nodded and followed him into the room.
“What’s your poison?” asked Lawton, perusing the minibar.
“Just give me what you’re having.”
“Okay, soldier boy, if you think you can handle it,” said Lawton, taking out a bottle of vodka.
An hour or so later he was sitting on the couch in Lawton’s hotel room, listening to him talk about his daughter. He liked it when he did that; he looked more relaxed and there was a shadow of a happy smile on his face.
“Floyd,” he interrupted eventually. It earned him a curious look, probably because he rarely called him Floyd; never when they weren’t in mortal danger.
“Colonel?”
“Why did you save my life?”
“Told you. Waller would be pissed if I’d let you die.”
That wasn’t it. There was another reason which Rick couldn’t figure out. Well, he’d have to do without it.
“Thank you.”
“You’ve already said that, colonel.”
“Not only for saving me. For having my back. It’s good to know I can count on someone.” The thing was, he never knew with the squad. Katana had left, Harkness was an untrustworthy jackass, Quinn could go either way, depending on her mood, El Diablo still couldn’t quite control his powers, and Croc was a flesh-eating crocodile which didn’t exactly make him a great partner. Lawton was different; he seemed to actually care about what happened to Rick and he appreciated that.
Lawton looked at him, long and hard, as if trying to decipher what he really meant. He moved closer, their faces only inches apart. Rick could feel his cheeks burning. Maybe drinking with him wasn’t such a good idea.
Then Lawton’s mouth was on his and the only thought remaining in his head was ‘oh-oh’. He kissed him back.
***
The ability to think straight did return to him eventually, hours later when he was lying in Lawton’s bed. The man was smoking again and Rick pushed away the thought of sharing his cigarette. Instead, he let the regrets flood him, dressed quickly and left the room.
The first thing he did when he got to his own room was taking a shower. While hot water was pouring on him he finally had an opportunity to, well, freak out.
What the hell had he been thinking? He had slept with an inmate from a high-security prison. Moreover, he had slept with one of his soldiers. This was bad whatever way he looked at it. God, Waller would have his head off if she knew. Or maybe she wouldn’t care. This could go either way.
This was wrong. This couldn’t happen again. No matter how good it felt, no matter how much he wanted it.
He wondered how Floyd felt about it. He shouldn’t have fled his room; not that he believed they would have been able to have a conversation about feelings, but maybe he would have found out if it had been just a one-off thing or something else.
Not that it mattered, because it couldn’t happen again. Ever.
***
It did happen again. And again. And again. It happened so many times that Rick started to question his own judgement. Maybe he wasn’t fit to lead a group of people into the field if he wasn’t able to stop himself from making mistakes.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Quinn, when they were both waiting for the rest of the squad to get to the meeting point.
“What?” asked Rick, too busy worrying about it to hear what Harley said. Well, he heard it but didn’t process.
“That thing on your mind. You’ve been so preoccupied; it makes you a worse leader.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Denying the problem won’t make it go away. You should talk about it with someone.”
Her tone was almost professional. He wondered how much of her psychiatry degree was still worth something.
“By someone you mean you?”
“Well, you don’t have to if you don’t wanna.”
“I don’t.” The rest of the team was approaching so he stood up, ending this impromptu session.
“Well,” Quinn said from behind him when the team almost reached them. “I think that Floydie really likes you, so you don’t have to worry about it being just a sex thing.”
He would respond, but at this point, the team got to them. He cursed. The girl had one hell of a timing.
***
Quinn’s words didn’t leave his head no matter how much he wanted them to go away. They were playing on a loop in his mind, sparking something in his heart that he desperately wished to go away. It felt almost like hope.
It didn’t matter. Floyd’s feelings did not matter because Rick did not and could not have feelings for him. That would be inappropriate. More so than sleeping with him, which should also stop. Especially since if Quinn knew, the rest of the team might have known as well. And that meant Waller could find out any minute. That would be a disaster and the end of his career.
So he said to Floyd:
“We have to end it.”
They were lying in a bed in a cheap motel room they slept in after this mission.
“I know,” said Floyd without much emotion.
“You know?” Rick was a little disappointed. He hadn’t expected Floyd to put up a fight but he could have at least asked for an explanation.
“Sure, colonel. I know how it goes. Better end it before you start to develop feelings or whatever and expect me to care, which I’m sure you know I cannot do.”
“Right,” said Rick. That made sense.
“Don’t be hurt, Flag. It’s just who I am.”
***
And that would be it. Things went back to normal, or at least as normal as things could be when you were in charge of a team of supervillains. And Rick was fine, great even, now that his job and sanity were no longer on the line. Floyd clearly didn’t care about their breakup (only it wasn’t that, they were never together), acting no different than usual, so why should he.
And then Rick almost died.
It wasn’t that he put himself deliberately in danger. He just had a bad day. Since he woke up he had been bitter and unhappy and somehow seeing Floyd only made that worse. So instead of partnering with him, he went with Harkness. Floyd was left with Quinn, who was shamelessly flirting with him. Great. As if the day wasn’t bad enough.
He was distracted, he didn’t see the shooter fire, and Harkness did nothing to pull him out of the way of the bullet. The next thing he knew he woke up in a hospital room (or rather a Belle Reve room reserved for treating the members of Task Force X). Waller was talking his ear off, reprimanding him for making such a stupid mistake and threatening to demote him. The doctor interrupted her, saying he was going to live. Well, at least stupidity wasn’t fatal.
Waller and the doctor left the room eventually, and it was only then that Rick noticed there was another person there. Floyd was standing by the wall, covered in shadows, almost as if he had been hiding.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” said Rick, still weak from the loss of blood.
Floyd didn’t answer. He came closer and took a seat next to Rick’s bed. Then he took out a cigarette and lit it.
“You know, I don’t think smoking is…” he was interrupted by a cloud of smoke blown out straight into his face.
So he shut up and watched Floyd smoke, looking at his chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. After he was done with the cigarette he looked at Rick and took out another one. After the third one, he finally spoke:
“I don’t like caring for people, Flag,” he said, lighting the fourth cigarette. “The fewer people I care about the better. There’s my little girl, and that’s it. I used to care for her mother, but that led nowhere good. So I don’t care about people and instead, I focus on doing my fucking job.”
Rick didn’t say anything - he didn’t have to, Floyd continued anyway.
“But I’m afraid I started caring for you, colonel, and I don’t like that at all. Especially since you’re a reckless asshole who will one day get himself killed.”
“I’m sorry,” he said with some effort. He found it hard to breathe all of the sudden.
“Damn right, you are,” Floyd looked as if he wanted to add something but Rick interrupted him with,
“I care about you too.”
Floyd looked at him, clearly displeased. But then he grabbed Rick’s hand in his own.
“Never again go into the field without me, Flag. I don’t care if you hate me, or cannot stand me, just… just don’t do that.”
"I won’t."
He somehow felt that he was promising more than that. He didn’t know where it would lead them; all he knew that he liked the feeling of Floyd’s hand on his and didn’t want him to ever let go. He could worry about the consequences later.
(Three hours later Waller comes back and finds Floyd sleeping, his head on Rick’s torso, their hands still intertwined. She shots Rick a look and then leaves. Well, at least that question is answered.)