Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

TSX had reported in after a long day. The ARGUS recruits were still very wary of them. You should have been too, but with the bombs in their necks they didn’t seem nearly as cut-throat as everyone cracked them up to be.

Food was dished out in packets; soggy MREs and whatever snacks you brought in from the outside. There were limited places to sleep in the Hall of Justice. Just mats on the ground. Half of the teams were on the nightshift, you were lucky enough to get some shut-eye.
Everyone slept in their designated teams, medics, recruits, engineers and TSX secluded to the corner. You happened to be on the edge of the medics were sleeping, a couple of feet away from the Boomerang guy.

You tried to close your eyes when the lights shut out. The shuffling of bodies and the whirring of machines made it difficult to rest. You turned on your side and willed your eyes to grow heavy, you’d been shattered all day yet your mind was keeping you up.

You thought you were staring into nothing, until you realised you were having an accidental staring contest with a convict.

You shook yourself awake. He blew a kiss at you.

“S-sorry.”
“No need. I don’t blame you for staring. You’re only human.”

In the glow of distant screens you could see him flexing his bicep. You stifled a laugh.

“Can’t sleep?” He asked, “Me neither.”
“Too loud in here.” You said, “I miss my bed.”

“I don’t miss the springs pokin’ in my back on the cell mattress. Nah, can’t sleep with my arms empty.” He sniffed, “Had a– uh… a pillow. Yeah a special pillow. Must’ve been left back in Arkham.”
“A pillow, huh? Not a sentimental stuffie or blankie?”
“Don’t look at me like that.” He groaned. “None ya’ business how I sleep, anyhow.”

You turned onto your back, content to leave him be. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed him shiver. He was only in a thin t-shirt and orange jumpsuit, and the hall of justice was all marble and gold. There was a draught that swept over everyone. Though Waller hadn’t granted TSX blanket privileges it seemed.

You shuffled a few inches towards him, “You wanna share?”
He narrowed his eyes at you, “Alright, but if Waller gets on my arse, it was your idea.”

“Deal.”
The rest of your team had thankfully passed out, so shoving your mats together and heaping the blanket over you both didn’t stand out. You figured if you were going to die in some gruesome fashion trying to save the city, you might as well get a decent night's sleep. Plus he was handsome and warm. He had a strong smell, all sweat and soot, but it was strangely comforting.

You rested your head on his chest and he tentatively put his hand on just below your chest.
“Kick me if ya’ think I’m getting handsy.” He yawned.

You could feel the weight of his arm over you, his heart slowly thumping into your ear. Soon you were drifting off and found yourself curling up around his arm. He gently scooped you closer to spoon you and slept with his nose in your hair. You swore you could feel him smiling.

***

You woke up alone, blearily sitting up as the wake up call sounded off. You could still smell his sweat on your shirt. The mat had been shoved back to its corner, and you were swaddled in the blanket.
You looked around in the dimly lit hall to see the Captain waving you off with another blown kiss.

Chapter Text

A high pitched wail pierced the chaos of the station.
Waller had called you in to take care of a pocket of civilians who had taken refuge in the subway. With the aliens taken care of by her task force, at least for now, you were here with your team for first aid and casualties.
The group of stragglers were lost and terrified; you were struggling to treat them all whilst they desperate sought out their loved ones. And in the midst of it all, a lost infant in a little green onesie. People had been passing him around amongst those able to stand and speak, no one seemed to know to whom he belonged.

Finally he ended up in the arms of the man in the long coat and the blue beanie. The Boomerang guy, as you'd come to know him.

“Shhhh, shhhh, it’s alright little fella. Shhhh, shhh, shut the fuck up.” He cooed, gently bouncing him in his arms. "Yeah, that's right, shut your little face, sweet 'art."

Over his shoulder were the assortment of misfits, Harley Quinn with her garish face paint, the masked guy with the jetpack and the 8ft shark man. The ones you politely attempted not to stare at.

“Awwww, Boomer, way to channel those daddy issues, hun.” Harley rested her chin on his shoulder and made faces at the baby.
“Shaddup’ Harl.” He snapped. The little thing was now just pouting and wriggling in his arms.
“I thought you hated kids, man.” the masked one said, “You ain’t doin’ a bad job.”
“Yeah, well, it's easy, right Deadshot? You just sorta’ jiggle em’ about and hum. And just cos’ I hate kids don’t mean I’m not any good with em’--”
The Shark stood over him as he spoke bluntly, “You implanted a bomb in a child’s neck.”
“Yeah, but I did it without her noticin’. No tears, no fuss. Not until she found out. Still waitin’ on that thank you, by the way…”

The baby, upon noticing the giant man with several hundred teeth threatened to cry again.
“Now look at what you’ve done.” He began hushing the baby again, “Its okay, mite, Sharky won’t eat you. You’re much too small, aren’t you? Yeah, you’re not even a snack. Its alright, it’s alright…”

You couldn’t quite tell, but the Shark man seemed hurt by this and wandered away, muttering about the fragility of human infants and how sharks are expected to be strong before they even exit the womb.

Harley and Deadshot had clearly gotten bored and walked away to make themselves useful to the rescue team, or a nuisance. As you treated survivors, ‘Boomer’ stayed in the corner, cosying up to the baby. He seemed glad to have a chance to sit down, almost falling asleep against the wall with the baby in his lap. You couldn’t ignore how adorable the pair were.

After several hours, you found the mother amongst the crowd. She had been found unconscious and you treated her for a headwound. Captain Boomerang seemed reluctant to hand him off, no matter what snarky comment he made whilst doing it.

“I only did it because bein' a dad's a real turn on.” He said, glancing at you and winking.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t exactly a hero’s welcome. Digger wasn’t great at reading the room, but even he could tell the mood was bittersweet. ARGUS Soldiers were slapping him on the back and even Flag seemed begrudgingly proud. But they couldn’t ignore the fact they had murdered world-wide symbols of hope and justice whilst the city of tomorrow was still in ruins.

Toy “Man” seemed to be taking it the worst.

Digger started to sift through his brain for anything that could be remotely heroic in this moment. Or at least, try not to be an arsehole about it. He wasn’t exactly an expert on role-model behaviour. He could write a book on what not to do, with special thanks to his dad.

Wait a second - he thought – all he had to do, was NOT do what his dad would have done. Yeah, that’s it! What would his father had done? Digger conjured up the memory of his neighbour’s dog getting run over. He loved that dog, even if it wasn’t his, it was a scruffy, yappy little bastard. Just like him. When his dad had gotten home, he gave him his first tinny to cheer him up. He was fourteen and it tasted like piss. When he spat it out, his dad has clipped him round the head and screamed at him for wasting it.

So don’t give the kid booze and don’t yell at him. That was a starting point at least.

Digger sat next to him, Toyman was a puddle of grief on the table. His little gadget thingy was nuzzling up to him. It tilted its ‘head’ at Digger.
“Uhhh, mate, if it's any consolation. They probably would’ve wanted to be taken down if they were evil. Like, Batman had a whole plan and all. Made a big speech n’ all in the Bat-Cave for all his Bat-mates. All that good shit about working together and loyalty, that kinda’ crap.” Digger put his chin on the table next to him.
“Y-yeah?” The kid sniffled, it was all a bit pathetic, but he mustered up the strength not to roll his eyes.
“Yeah. He might be a big rich prick, but he would’ve been happy you helped take him down. They all would be so proud. Cos’ they’re heroes, kid, they gotta make the tough calls for the rest of us at the end of the day.”

Hiro sat up and wiped his face with his sleeve, “I just… I feel so… mad.”

He wasn’t expecting that. But then again, he was spitting mad when the old git owner down the road told him to bugger off with the dog he had to bury himself. He was always mad as a kid, even that he was being ignored or getting called out when he slipped up. He could never seem to do the right thing.

Digger scratched his chin, “You wanna’ punch me in the jaw, would that make you feel better?”
“No, its okay.”
“Y’sure? I could probably take a few punches from you and be just fine, I mean look at ya'–”
“No thanks.”

Digger leant back in his chair and rocked on the back legs.
“I think Harley would probably say somethin’ like, ‘That’s normal an yer’ feelins’ are valid’. Sounds like a load of shite, and it is. All the good advice sounds like shit. Just try to put it to good use.”
“How?” Hiro said.
Digger groaned, “Uggghhh, I don’t know. Just–Just don’t do what I would do. Don’t piss people off just for the hell of it. You’ve got a future ahead of you, don’t screw it up and end up calling yourself Captain Boomerang. Go be a hero or whatever.”

Hiro looked off into his Superman poster. He looked okay, better than sobbing into a table, thought Digger. What an embarrassment, Digger sighed to himself as he got up, best to leave the poor kid alone. He knew he should’ve kept his mouth shut, or gotten Sharko to keep to his word and shoot him. I shouldn’t have said anything, now the kids gonna’ be thinking about what a life-long shit-show I am, makin' it all about me, I am such a flamin' idiot--

“Thanks, Captain.”
He stopped and looked back, he didn’t get thanked often.
“No problem, mate.”

Chapter Text

Physicals were offered to TSX whenever they reported in at end of day. It was your job to conduct them. Who knows what they could be contaminated by out there? Even if they rejected most of the protective measures you offered, they seemed grateful.

“Thanks doc’, at least we know we ain’t falling apart at the seams.” Harley chuckled and slapped you on the shoulder, Deadshot nodded a thank you and walked off to find somewhere quiet.

It was Shark and Digger’s turn to lie down on the gurneys. Nanau’e, as you’d come to know him, seemed grateful for a surface that could bear his weight. Digger, meanwhile, sat cross legged on his bed. You couldn’t blame him for worrying that someone was going to strap him down again. Arkham was a waking nightmare.

“I’ll start on Nanau’e.” You tried to smile and ease his nerves, “Take it easy for now.”
Digger grumbled and turned away. He didn’t have to take the physical, but he still showed up. He must have trusted you, at least enough to play along.

“Hello Medic, there is a deep itching below my right shoulder blade, I would be grateful if you were to examine that.”
“Let’s have a look– FUCK–” You yelled midsentence.
A shard of glass jutted out precariously from his back.

“I assume there is a wound.”
“You can’t feel that?!”
“It is most itchy. I would appreciate if you could scratch it.”

You try to gather yourself. A human in this situation would be put under for surgery and imaging, but it wasn’t as if you had that equipment to hand. But if you did, you weren’t sure if it would be necessary. You had their files on hand, purportedly “King Shark” was protected to injuries that others would succumb to, though his anatomical biology was unconfirmed.

It didn’t seem to be near any major arteries. It also seemed stabilized in its position. Perhaps you could take it out, sterilise it and suture it together. You had little choice it seemed.

“Hold on there, big guy, just lean forward for me and–”
You yanked it out. Shark grunted. A minor twinge of pain as you disposed of the nine inch shard. Thankfully, it came out whole. The skin closed immediately. That would save you both some time.

“Hm. I am thankful.” He paused, “But still itchy.”

You chuckled and scratched his skin. You could even feel it through your latex gloves. It was strange, like sandpaper with a grain. You were fascinated.

“Oh. Oh. That is pleasant.” He closed his eyes and sighed, “Thank you, Medic!”
You laughed, using the voice you used to treat kids for grazed knees,
“Oooh, you poor thing, walking around with that in you for who knows how long! All better?”
“Yes– we can now continue the examination–”

“UM. HELLO. IS ANYONE GOING TO LOOK ME OVER?!”

You looked over, Digger was now lying on his side with his arm folded. He was looking at you accusatorily. And pouting.

“I could be dying of blood loss over ere’ but you’re all focused on that Seaworld freak. I’ve got injuries too!”

You had to stop your mouth from curling into a smile.
It was ridiculous; a grown man throwing a tantrum because you were giving someone else five minutes of your time. He wasn’t truly serious; if Captain Boomerang wanted something, he’d just get up and make it happen. You’d caught him rifling through your gauze and tape before. Slapping bandages haphazardly and assuring you he did it all the time. The big baby just wanted some attention.

You sighed, took off your gloves and put on some new ones. Nanau’e seemed not to care and was browsing through a National Geographic someone had left in the makeshift waiting room.

“Alright, Digger, how can I help?”
“Finally.” He said, “I got a nasty gash up me’ arm. See?”

He pulled up the sleeve of his t-shirt to show you a graze. It was no bigger than your thumb-nail.

“Oh I see, very serious.” You rubbed your chin, struggling to maintain composure, “We’ll have to amputate.”
“Ha. Ha.” He said.
“I’ll give it a swab and a band-aid. I’m sure you’ll survive if you’re strong.” You said, you flipped through your pockets for an alcohol swipe.
“It has been said that I am notably strong.” He said, flexing as subtly as a man called Captain Boomerang could manage.

You held onto his bicep, which seemed to give him what he wanted. Wiping the little patch over and carefully unfolding a band-aid onto it. You patted him gently and kissed the spot.

“Better?”
“A bit…I’m itchy too.”

You snorted and burst into a fit of laughter. You couldn’t hold it back any more. You noticed that he was holding in his own smile.

Chapter Text

“I SAID GET THE FUCK OFF ME.”

There was a shout, a thud and the sound of steel-toe boots rushing to hold Digger down.
He was spinning, throwing out punches. You could hear he was hyperventilating.

“BOOMERANG. LISTEN TO ME. YOU ARE HERE, IN THE HALL OF JUSTICE, WITH YOUR TEAM MATES–” Nana’ue caught one of his fists and attempted to hold him still.
“FUCK YOU.” Digger whipped his hand out from his friend’s formidable fist and turned to strike another guard.

Harley caught him around the neck, “Boomer! Calm Down, you’re even freaking me out!”
Digger flung Harley off who was caught by Floyd, who seemed hesitant to intervene himself. Nana’ue was now standing back and watching his friend pummel anyone who got too close, walking back defeatedly.

He was thrashing as the recruits were dragging him back by the elbows. You stifled yourself from running in, you knew it’d only make things worse in the chaos.

Another smack and crack. Digger managed to break a few noses that you’d be treating soon enough. He let out a strained wail and crumpled to the ground. Perhaps Waller wanted to see if he could hold them off before hitting him with the shock. It was a nasty one. He hit the floor without a cry.

“What happened here?” Waller parted the throng of bystanders by her sheer presence.
“He was taking a nap, Ma’am, and then he– he– he just went nuts! Started screaming about his brain–”
“Enough.” Waller cut in, “Get his ass into the holding cell.”

Unresponsive, they hoisted Digger into the glass-panelled room and dropped on the floor. Blood dripped from his cheek. You knew you had to see to the recruits black eyes, but you couldn’t quite tear your eyes away from him heaped on the ground.

After some minor stitches and ice packs, you were left to steal glimpses of him from the other side of the hall. You didn’t say a word when they insulted him; whack-job, scumbag, dumbass, freak. You knew standing up for him right after he’d sucker punched them wasn’t a great idea. You weren’t going to persuade them anyway. You were left to tidy your equipment alone, when you finally noticed King Shark looming behind you.

“Hmm. You show pity for him. It seems you and I are alone in this concern.”
“Do you know why he started panicking like that?”
Nana’ue dropped eye contact and stared into the glass of the holding cell, “I have seen many in-mates fall in and out of reality similarly at Belle Reve. Those subjected to the same experiments as I was are prone to … waking nightmares.”
“Do you think Waller… experimented on him?” You asked.
“No. I think he was simply reliving whatever horrors Arkham put him through. He is a tenacious human. But all minds are fragile.”

He put a hand on your shoulder and walked back to his teammates, both of whom seemed to be joking about their friend finally cracking under the pressure. There was a twinge of regret to their jokes, you thought.

***

An hour or so later, as night had fallen, you walked wordlessly up to Colonel Flag. Top Brass must have known about the bond (for lack of a better word) you two had formed. Waller only cared about controlling her ‘assets’. If it let you into that cell to comfort a traumatised friend, then so be it.

He rolled his eyes and let you in. He left to let another guard take up security.

Digger had crawled up into the lower bunk. He had shrunk into himself, staring into the other side of the glass wall.

“Hi.”
“Why’d they let you in?” He sniffed, back still turned.
“Not sure.” You sat down on the ground, you could feel eyes on the other side of the glass upon you.
“Have I ever told you how much I fuckin’ hate doctors?”

There was some real hostility in that hoarse voice. As if you were about to hold him down like the rest of them. You didn’t blame him.

“I’m not a doctor, I couldn’t afford med-school.”
He laughed, sniffing tears away.
“But you are qualified to treat whack-jobs?”
“Yep. And whatever you’ve got going on, too.”
“Well, looks like I’m in safe hands.”

There was a moment of quiet before he shifted and let you onto the bed. With some cramped shuffling, his head was laid up on your lap. He refused to meet eyes with you. You didn’t need to, instead you let your fingers run through his hair. He let out a slow, unfurling sigh.

“Almost pissed myself, y’know.” He said, “You sure you wanna’ share the bed, love?”
“I think with what your team face, you’re allowed to wet the bed every now and then. I wouldn’t blame you.”

He let out a short laugh and sighed again.

“I had a nightmare. I know, I know, embarassin’ for your brave, handsome Captain! But I nodded off between missions and— there I was.” He trailed off, all the jokes and bravado draining from his voice. His arms slowly wrapped around your waist to curl closer to you.

“I got mind-fucked by four blokes at once. It felt like they were shredding my thoughts and my memories and gluin’ em’ back together wrong and all I could do was fight. I had to fight or I’d die droolin’ and frothin’ on the floor. And then as soon as its over, I’m out and dragged into this shit.”

He tilted his head on your thigh and looked at you, his eyes glassy and brimming.

“I can’t get catch a fuckin’ break.”

You shuffled down to spoon him. You kissed along his tender neck where Harley had yanked him in the headlock. Your touches were feather-light on his bruises. You could feel the shivers ebbing out of him.

Finally, he rolled over and enfolded you to his chest. You felt him try to suppress the sobs he made into your back.

You stroked his shoulders as you whispered, “You take all the time you need.”
You held you tight until his grip loosened into sleep.