Mick Rory had always tried his damnedest to hate Ray Palmer. For a while it wasn't all that difficult. He was an annoying, bumbling idiot. Mick could usually get by with punching him and shouting insults at him. But at some point, Mick wasn't sure when exactly, maybe after Ray had taken that beating for him, maybe before, a strange feeling started to develop in the pit of his stomach, like a bunch of moths were swarming around in there.

At first, he thought it was because he was ill. Then he realized the feeling only came about, when Ray was around. He figured the moron must've done something to him, so Mick tried throwing more insults at him. But the feeling never went away. In fact they only grew stronger, the longer they stayed on the Waverider. One day, he just couldn't take it any more. He swallowed his pride and marched into Snart's room. Mick had been avoiding consulting him about it, sure that the answer was something obvious. But as usual, Mick couldn't figure it out. So there he was.

After he'd told Snart about the feeling, he just sat there for a moment, staring at his friend. When he finally did open his mouth to speak, Mick was sure he'd call him an idiot. Instead he said, "Mick...I think you like Raymond."

Mick stared back at him, trying to register what he was saying. The pyromaniac had never been particularly close with anyone except for Snart. But the feet he got when Ray was around was different. Almost unsettling.

"Right...and how do I stop doing that?" Mick asked finally. He wasn't completely convinced that was the issue, but he figured he'd ask just in case.

Snart took a deep breath through his nose. He looked up at his friend from the chair he was sitting in, arms folded. Calmly, he said, "I'm not sure you can."

Mick glared down at him. That was not the response he had expected. "What?" he demanded.

Snart shrugged. "You can't make the feelings go away," he said.

"Like hell I can't!" Mick shouted.

"Mick  - " Snart tried. But Mick was pissed, now. He was certain Snart knew how to stop the feelings, that he was deliberately holding back the information.

"Screw you!" Mick interupted. "If you won't tell me, I'll figure it out myself!" And with that, he stormed out of his friend's room. He heard Snart muttering something as he left, but Mick didn't catch it. And he didn't care enough to turn around and ask what he'd said.

-

The next time Mick saw Ray, they were alone in  the mess hall. The others had gone out on a mission. They'd left Ray behind, because he had been injured in the last mission. For some reason Mick had felt compelled to stay with him. He told himself it was because someone had to keep the moron alive, if Chronus attacked the ship, while the others were gone. Though, as the day drug on, he was becoming less and less sure of that.

The moths in his stomach were in overdrive, fluttering around like insane little monsters. They'd gotten even worse, when Ray had decided he felt well enough to be up. Mick glared at the back of his head whenever he wasn't looking. Why did the idiot have to come bugging him? Just because they were alone on the Waverider didn't mean they had to make conversation.

Every time Ray turned around to look at him, a new wave of moths attacked Mick's stomach. Which made him glare at Ray. He was obviously the source of the moths.
Mick thought about what Snart had told him. That he liked the moron of a scientist that was presently sitting in front of him.

Mick stared at him for a moment, considering the idea. He watched as Ray began eating one of the few non disgusting snacks on board the ship. The idea was quickly dismissed, when he saw how childish he looked. It made his stomach to weird flips. He figured that meant he thought the nerd was repulsive.
Ha, he thought. You were wrong this time, Snart.

Mick continued to glare at Ray, positive he had figured things out. He didn't like him. He loathed him. The moths were a side effect from hating him so much. It was physically starting to take a toll on his body.

And then Ray decided to make it worse by speaking. It was almost as if he knew he made Mick feel moths inside his stomach. He asked, "Are you okay? You've been acting strange."

Mick glared at him once more. "I'd be fine, if you stopped being so damn annoying!"

Ray got a confused look on his face. It was obvious that he didn't know what he'd done that Mick found so irritating. Mick suspected  that was an act, though. He must've known. Why else would he continue to be so insufferable?

"Okay?" Ray said. There was an odd expression on his face that Mick couldn't place. Then, like the sneaky bastard he was, he found Mick's one true weakness. (Next to fire of course.) Alcohol.
He reached into the liquor cabinet, pulling out the strongest stuff the Waverider had to offer. Ray held up the bottle, looking at Mick questioningly, silently asking if he should pour them a glass. And, despite Mick's hate for Ray, how could he say no?

So, Ray grinned that stupid, annoying grin of his, before getting out two glasses and pouring the liquor inside. He moved so that they sat side by side, and they drank. Mick thought the alcohol would drown the moths in his stomach out. Instead, they only seemed to double in size, swarming around so violently he thought he might be sick. Something about Ray, sitting next to him set them off.

The only explation Mick could come up with is that he hated Ray Palmer. A lot. Because he refused to believe what Snart had told him. That just didn't make any sense. Why the hell would Mick suddenly start liking Ray, when he had hated him all this time? The man was like a child. A very annoying child. His hero complex was stupid and would probably get him killed. Which Mick thought was stupid. Ray Palmer was incredibly stupid. So, clearly the moths were because Mick hated him and not anything else.

The two men were sitting very close, nearly shoulder to shoulder. Mick kept drinking, trying desperately to rid himself of the moths whizzing around in his stomach. The effort was futile, as the moths only seemed to get worse the longer he sat next to Ray. He was very aware of how close they were sitting to each other. So close that if Ray were to turn his head they just might be able to close the gap and -

Before that thought could be finished, Mick flung his first out, hitting Ray right on the jaw and knocking him out of his seat. Mick jumped up, hurrying out of the kitchen. The last image he got of Ray was that of bafflment and maybe even a little hurt. Which pleased Mick, because he hated him that much...right?