Domestic

[madimpossibledreamer]

…Tommy moved into a new apartment, I guess, because he couldn’t afford the old one and also I don’t remember what it looked like. 
~Dreamer~

Main Points:
Arrow/Assassin's Creed
First person for no reason. Again.
Summary: Tommy wakes up to Ollie's cooking.
Word Count: 420
Rating: Gen

            When I wake up again, I half think it’s a dream, before I realize that’s the smell of breakfast.  I sit up slowly and find Oliver sitting at my counter with a cup of coffee in front of him, bacon and eggs on the stove along with a pot of coffee.  He’s…stolen my newspaper, too.
            “Did you sleep at all?” I ask quietly, because I vaguely remember him having said something about not being able to, and that’s why he’d snuck in in the first place.
            “A little.”  Ollie’s not lying—that’s something that hasn’t changed.  He’s always been a terrible liar.  But I also get the feeling that he’s being perfectly factual—he’s only gotten twenty minutes, or an hour, or something.  Whatever 'little' means.  “I made you breakfast.”
            That’s very different than how he’s treated anyone else, but then, I’m not anyone else, am I?  I’m his best friend.  “I saw that,” I respond, still yawning, and then think back over what I just said and flush.  “Um, I mean, thank you.  Obviously.”
            He chuckles and smiles and actually meets my eyes warmly.  “You seemed really tired.  I just…”  He glances back down at his hands, like he forgets they exist or are attached to him sometimes, or something.  “I want to look out for you.”
            And that’s enough to give me an idea of what happened—maybe he’d had a nightmare, or maybe he’d just been tormented by the idea of me dying, or getting hurt, and him being helpless.
            “I appreciate it, but you gotta look out for yourself, too.”  I walk up behind him and start massaging his shoulders, and he groans and leans his head back into my chest.  He really has to relax more.
            He swallows.  “I know how to survive, but I’m not sure how…”
            My heart hurts for a moment before my optimism kicks back in.  I can’t fix everything, obviously, but I can help.  And I’m not alone.  I’ve seen Thea force him to eat.  Speaking of which…
            “You’re going to share some of that with me, right?” I ask, and for a moment he stares at me, confused, before he realizes what I’m actually trying to do.
            “You’re not going to leave me alone until I eat something, are you?” he asks but we’re both aware it’s a rhetorical question.
            “Nope,” I tell him cheerfully, “…but you do have the option of me feeding you romantically.”
            Ollie’s face twitches into a smile, and it’s genuine, too.  “I’d like that.”