Work Text:
Story-adjacent to The Piranha
~
John wasn’t much for talking even before his closest friend became an emotionally constipated and mute serial killer. He’s been told by multiple mutuals that it had been an integral variable in the demolition of his marriage to Lyla. But ever since Felicity had started showing up in the Foundry—chattering away about anything from her tech to the most amazing chicken and ranch sub she had for lunch that day—he has begun to open up more, verbally, if only to cut off her endless ramblings. Still, with all the progress he likes to think he’s made in the time he’s spent with the bubbly blond, he finds that when the only company around is a pissy spoiled billionaire and an NSA agent with a stick up his ass about protocol and firearms the need to make idle conversation evades him every time.
“So… the Mets, am I right?” Tommy exclaims, awkwardly breaking the silence.
Both former soldiers turn to give him equally annoyed and exasperated expressions. His eyebrows go up in a placating expression, spinning in Felicity’s “special chair” in the opposite direction.
“Look, like I said when I came down here. I’m just waiting on Sarah, she’s getting all our stuff packed and picking me up to get Chuck for the airport. No need for any kind of goodbyes or small talk. Unless you want to make a special connection with my Glock.”
Tommy snorted childishly at that, but Digg continued to stare at the ground, allowing only a small smirk.
“Yeah… I don’t know who you or Sarah are, but—buddy, if you’re feeling emotional about cutting the vacae’ short, you can be honest, pal. This is a no judging zone. We’ll miss you too.”
Casey looks about ready to rip Tommy’s head off by the end of his sardonic little speech and, for some reason, Digg feels the need to step in before the situation escalates.
“Thanks for the support, Major. Safe trip back to California.”
He gives Tommy one last withering glance before turning back to Digg and giving him a begrudged grunt of acknowledgement. Digg lets out a heavy sigh and turns back to the gun on the desk he had been polishing when the agent had come barging down the stairs, announcing his presence as if reporting for duty. For a few minutes, they all make a big show of ignoring each other, and Digg is just becoming immersed in his work again when—
“You’re buddy, Queen, going to be here anytime soon?”
Digg starts, glancing up. “I doubt it.”
Casey gives him an expectant look, but he just gives a noncommittal shrug and turns back to his guns. Tommy clears his throat from behind them, and Digg hears Felicity’s swivel chair squeak conspicuously around. He didn’t have to look back to know Merlyn was trying not to be noticed eavesdropping. Honestly, he’s impressed the guy even bothered with the small effort.
“Ahem, hey you, big guy? Yeah, don’t expect to see him resurfacing for a while—see, he went over to Felicity’s place and… let’s just say that things are about to start developing—“
“Queen’s going over to Blondie’s and finally telling her that he’s got lady feelings for her?” Casey interprets, with a look of casual intrigue.
Tommy starts, back straightening instantaneously. “This guy knows? They told him after two days and they didn’t tell me for months? My best friend and her boss?”
Cold, thought Digg.
“Nobody had to tell me anything, because I’m not an idiot.”
“Well, shit.” He slumps back in his chair dejectedly.
Digg snorts, and moves back to his guns. “Well, he’s not wrong; it’s been a damn long time coming. I mean, that boy has been pining over Felicity since before he knew was pining over her.”
He makes a self-pitying noise, head tilted towards his lap. After a few heartbeats, however, his gaze flickers lightly back up to the huge expanse of monitors, computer systems whirring intelligently in the background, and reaches forward to swipe the mouse experimentally.
Casey grimaces, grunting in acknowledgement. “Yeah, well, I have way too much experience in watching grown men pine over a woman that is even more oblivious to her own feelings than she is to his. It has become my own personal hell.”
Diggle snorts, minding instantaneously jumping to the intense stares, stupid heated fights, and quiet moments he just can’t seem to leave in time to miss. He nods slowly, without looking up, letting out a small chuckle of understanding. He felt himself frown again in concentration as he zeroed in on a smudge of grease that was resisting. Tommy is now immersed in the wide world that is Felicity’s high-tech “no touchy” computers, his mind wrapped so tightly that he might not notice another Earthquake device, in the right circumstances right now.
“You know, back in the marines, if a soldier couldn’t bottle up those emotions, he got himself and his whole team killed—or worse, discharged.”
“Yeah; see, my time in the military was a bit different, because I ended up married to one of the soldiers on my team. Then, it was ‘if you can’t bottle up these emotions, you’re going to get your wife killed,’” he felt himself chuckle, thinking back to his temperamental ex-wife out in the field.
Casey snorts, “That’s just like Chuck, getting everything tangled up and confused—“
“Yeah, right,” Digg interrupts, light sarcasm and vague interesting in his voice. “And I’m sure you, Major, have never let the lines get blurred before.”
He glances up from his glock when the pause lingers, eyebrows raised, to see Casey shifting uncomfortably against the cabinet he’s suddenly leaning heavily against. Mhmm, Digg thinks, far too casual.
“What, no ‘standing at attention’ anymore?” He chuckles when the other man scowls, and continues, “So who was she? Fellow marine? Fellow agent?”
Casey scoffs, pushing off the cabinet suddenly and shifting his weight, as if the ground is instantaneously too hot. “Unlike your friend, and the mission that just won’t end, I am a professional. A major. I’m also a man, and I don’t have all these heart-shaped feel—“
“She was a target, wasn’t she?”
“What?”
Diggle sits back in his chair comfortably to stare at the man. He’s glaring at him with clear dislike, but now that it’s been confirmed, Diggle can’t help but push for information.
“Stereotypical perfect soldier, like you, there’s always an exception to the rule—“
“Ohh, the exception to any rule always make for the best stories!” Tommy exclaims, jumping in from behind and startling the two men. He grins up expectantly at Casey.
“There’s no story, there’s no exception,” he insists vehemently, “And if there was, I sure as hell would not being telling the two of you!”
Diggle chuckles softly, the sound drowned out by Tommy’s exaggerated groan of disappointment. Casey’s face twitches, as if he has to physically hold himself back from hitting the man over the top of the head. “Go back to your tech, nerd.”
“That’s okay, Major. You’ll tell us one day,” Digg insists calmly, a small grin of amusement still lurking.
Suddenly, a ring makes them all jerk, heads swiveling over to the phone across the clearing. Tommy jumps up, and the others watch him pick up the phone, instinct bracing them for the call to mission. But when his shoulders slump into a relaxed position around his tilted head, they too unclench. He glances up and mouths Felicity, with a smug wink, before answering the still ringing phone and pulling it up to his ear.
“Hi, my dove, my flower, my sweet little pet—“ He interrupts himself, arrogance slipping into his lazy voice. “How’s your day shaping up for ya?”
There’s a pause, as every ounce of playful delight seeps out of Tommy’s face, color draining. Then, he’s pacing, hands tucking worryingly beneath his arms, head ducked down, expression clouded. The men watch this in silence for a few minutes before Diggle cannot possibly wait another a second for some explanation.
“Merlyn, what’s the matter?” Tommy’s head jerks up in surprise, having forgot he wasn’t alone—not an uncommon occurrence for the two’s conversations—and when his ear pulls away from his phone’s earpiece a cacophony of noises that resemble desperate sobbing echo over to John. His heart sinks. “Did they get into another fight?”
Tommy clears his throat, mouth opening and closing comically before he says, “Worse. God, worse.” Turning back to the phone he murmurs, “You know, Felicity, when I said go home and blow off some steam—yeah, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind…”
~