Letting Someone In

[madimpossibledreamer]

Interviews. are. the worst.  (wish me luck peeps and I am never calling any of you that again ever, that was weird)
~dreamer~
ps still no idea what to call this 'verse

Main Points:
Arrow/Assassin's Creed
Summary: Less unfortunately, Oliver gets to talk to Thea.
Word Count: 898
Rating: Teen
Hey, look, a chapter where it's all Italian I know, how about that.  Rated Teen because Thea might be slightly drunk.

          Thea stumbles a little entering the dark mansion.  She doesn’t want to be here.  It hasn’t really been home since her brother and her dad died, but at least, before, it had people.  Now Walter’s staying in police protection, and Mom’s in prison, and Tommy’s probably barely at his own apartment, let alone the mansion, because he’s running himself ragged trying to make up the mistakes of his father, and who knows where Ollie is.  Maybe he was a ghost.  Maybe he’d never been there, never been real—
          “Where have you been?” a voice asks out of the dark, and she is totally not unjustified in dropping her entire purse and shrieking like a banshee.
          At least from what she can make out of his face, he looks a little chagrined about that.
          “Ollie.  You of all people have no place asking me that.  You’re not my dad.  You’re barely even my brother.  You didn’t even call.”  Her anger’s been growing since he came back, and now it’s bursting out of her like it’ll never end.
          “Kind of hard to do when your phone broke—” he begins, and she steps forward to the chair he’s sitting in in the foyer and pokes him, because she’s not interested in his excuses.
          “Don’t tell me you didn’t memorize our number, because either you did and you just didn’t care enough to let us know that you were alive,” her voice cracks, and she sees him wince and flinch back at the touch, “…or you didn’t care enough to try.  Either way sucks.  And you suck.”  She feels embarrassed that she’s just tipsy enough that her argument is dissolving in alcohol.
          “I was kidnapped.”  Three words, clipped, almost angry, but they promptly shut her up.  Because she can’t—what—?
          Quieter.  Gentle and kind, but no less painful, no less violent.  “They broke my phone and they didn’t exactly give me my one phone call.  I tried calling you from Digg’s once I got out, but you didn’t answer your phone.  I was worried about you.”
          He’s probably not lying about that one, but he’s also ridiculously in control.  More than makes sense.  He still has a wall up, still is holding back—
          But he was just kidnapped.  He probably doesn’t want you worrying about him.
          “Oh my god.  Oh my god, Ollie,” she manages, pulling him into a hug without thinking and watching him wince—they probably hurt him, oh my god Ollie.
          “And you told me I needed to let someone in, and I’m choosing to talk to you, to tell you everything now, but I think it’ll help to have a little show-and-tell.”  She pulls away at the flat, distant tone in his voice, and he’s not looking at her.  He tends to do that, especially when it comes to meeting other people’s gazes.
          “Ollie, you’re not thinking straight—” she suggests, and is hurt when he chuckles at that.  Even if it sounds like an honest sound from him, because seriously, he needs to lie down and—
          “Thea, you’ve been after me for answers since I came back, and now that I’m going to give them to you you don’t want them?”
          She tries to think of the words, tries to come up with something, anything, to say in return, but she’s still thinking sluggishly.
          “We have way too much in common,” he admits, fluffing her hair the way he used to when she was a kid, the way she hated, the way she missed, the way he’d never done since he got back—
          “I’d wait until you’re sober, but I’d probably lose my…” he trails off, mutters something that doesn’t sound like English—since when does Ollie speak any other languages, he thought that was beneath him—“…nerve,” he finishes in English, admits, and maybe she’s just hallucinating or something.
          “We’re going to have to sneak out, though, because I’m pretty sure the police guard would be mad if I go anywhere.”  She missed that conspiratorial grin he gives her, but she’s still a little off balance.  And then, because a quiet Thea is just as wrong as a quiet Oliver even if it’s a lot less common, he takes a closer look at her and frowns.  “Thea, are you okay?”
          “You’re kind of making me nervous,” she manages, trying not to cry.  “And you’re back, and I missed you, and even if it wasn’t your choice that’s not okay.”
          He smiles at her, fond and open.  “I just figure you’d kill me if I put this off any more.  Because you want to know and you deserve to know, and—sorella mia—”
          “That better not be icky incest stuff,” she warns him, and he shakes his head.
          “Nope, sorry, just ‘sister’ in Italian.  I promise I’ll explain.  We’re going to my club,” he explains, and—
          Okay, really, that’s weird.  “Uh-huh.  You’ve just been kidnapped, you have something you want to explain, and you want to take me back to my own club.  After I left.”
          “Follow me,” he tells her cheerfully, and leads her to his room, where he’s apparently set up a rope thing to sneak out his window.  And it looks like it’s been there a while.  She slips a little on the rope getting out, but he catches her easily, and it’d be nice if it wasn’t just totally weird.