A Little Broken
Jun. 17th, 2019 10:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerMain Points:
Arrow/Assassin's Creed
First person for no reason. Again.
Summary: Oliver hasn't left Tommy's apartment in days and Tommy's starting to get a little concerned.
Word Count: 1176
Rating: Gen
Warning: Brief discussion of abuse, slightly dubcon kiss (because Ollie is having a panic attack)
“Was there a threat against my life that you’re not telling me about?” I finally ask, because as romantic as Oliver’s trying to be, there’s also something obviously wrong, and it needs to be addressed.
He freezes—I don’t even think he’s breathing—before all his air leaves him in one breath. “Digg was right; I have problems.”
I blink at him. Was that meant to be a surprise? It isn’t until he crosses his arms at that that I realize I probably said that aloud. I hadn’t meant to.
“Sleeping inside is too quiet. It’s never quiet unless something’s wrong. Having someone in the room helps, but I’m scared because the last time someone entered the room with me while I was sleeping I nearly strangled my mom and I don’t want to do that again. I couldn’t sleep so I came here, and then I realized your apartment was really easy to get into even for a wounded man and so I was worried. And then I realized it’s a new apartment, obviously, because the address is different, and I’ve never even seen the layout, and I need—” his hands are shaking again, and the words are pouring out like once he started it he can’t stop, and I step forward to tug him toward the couch because if you’re going to have a panic attack a nice, comfy-as-I-can-afford couch is a good place to have one, and he goes willingly which is almost an alarming thing in of itself. “I need to know everything. Entrances, exits, about your neighbors—you’re too vulnerable, if Malcolm’s alive I need to be able to protect you—”
I kiss him, because he’s gone in the deep end and I need to drag him back to the shallows. It’s nice to hear him actually talking about what’s going on in his head these days, better still that he’s aware it’s unhealthy and probably OCD, but he’s also freaking out a lot and I need him to calm down and think. It takes a few tries for him to actually relax—he’s struggling, which makes me feel uncomfortable in my soul, but it’s not me he’s fighting. It’s his inner demons.
Eventually, when I come up for air, his eyes are actually focused, and he looks embarrassed. “Sorry.”
I wave that off—with the scars, it’s obvious he’s been through a lot. Little wonder he’s got mental scars, too. It’s not his fault—he simply lived through it, survived, but of course there’s a price—this isn’t a movie or video game. “You’re not used to being able to ask for help,” I point out, and he looks shocked.
“How…?” he whispers, and.
It hurts.
I swore to myself I’d never tell him, but we’re together now. I’d never even considered that a possibility when I made that promise.
“You’re not the only one with scars.” I pull up my sweater and turn around so Ollie can see my back, right around my hip bone, and I shiver as his hands gently, shakingly trace the outline.
“Who…?” I turn back around—I need to be able to see him when he realizes.
His eyes are wide, but I can see the second he knows. His eyes darken, a storm at sea. “Malcolm.” He spits the name like a curse, before reaching out, pulling me into a hug. “You said it was only the once.”
“I’ve always been a better liar than you, and I never really cared about the physical abuse,” I admit. Honestly, I’d been kind of glad, the few times he’d stopped striking me with words and used his hand instead. “That might’ve been one of the reasons Laurel ended it with me—I couldn’t believe her when she said she loved me, because I could tell she didn’t fully believe it herself, and you’re the only person who’s ever said that to me and meant it.” I think about the words I’ve just said, and amend that to, “…Uh, and pretty much the entire Queen family. Seriously, all of you are awesome.” He still looks slightly stricken, so I add, “Ollie, stop blaming yourself. Like I said, I’m a good liar. If I didn’t want you to know about it, you wouldn’t find out, so there’s nothing you could’ve done about it.”
He eyes me, a fierce, possessive look, before he pulls me into a crushing hug. “I can do something now.” More than just killing my dad, which, actually, the whole Undertaking thing? Actually makes a whole lot more sense now that I think about it. “I can make sure you never doubt that you’re loved again. I can show you that you’re the best person I know.”
Given that I’ve never seen him so driven other than the whole vigilante thing, I can believe he’ll accomplish it, however hard it is.
“Well, I’m going to go with most things that dear old Dad actually disapproved of are good things,” because with showing me who Malcolm Merlyn really is, changing my whole world through coming back, Ollie’s saving me, again. I grin into his shoulder. “Like, maybe, making out with you on this couch.”
“That sounds like a good start,” Oliver agrees, and I can hear the smile on his face, before I kiss his neck and he groans.
When we finally stop acting like teenagers on the couch, I get us Thai—which is still a little too spicy, but given that Oliver seems to have developed an appetite (yet another good reason for the makeout session, thanks Dr. Merlyn) and doesn’t seem to have noticed, I don’t really care. And he’s actually present and paying attention this time when I introduce him to some pop culture he’s missed and start going through the differences between the PS3 and PS4 (I’ll get to Xbox eventually, but one thing at a time). It’s a date, and it’s not the Twilight Zone that I’ve been living in for the past five days, so I’d consider it pretty successful.
Arrow/Assassin's Creed
First person for no reason. Again.
Summary: Oliver hasn't left Tommy's apartment in days and Tommy's starting to get a little concerned.
Word Count: 1176
Rating: Gen
Warning: Brief discussion of abuse, slightly dubcon kiss (because Ollie is having a panic attack)
Felicity calls to yell at Ollie for sneaking out, but he promises that he’s going to take it easy and just. Doesn’t leave. Thea shows up on a couple days, I think just to confirm she’s not dreaming and he’s real and here, and we play a few video games as Ollie just watches. He joins in once and is a little embarrassed at how bad he is, but he seems content and relaxed just to watch, and on occasion he just paces, wandering around but keeping an eye on us. There was one game where he just fell asleep on the couch, and was adorably confused when he woke back up covered in a blanket in the middle of a fight about what pizza to order. It’s nice and new, but after a few days I start to get concerned and a little stir-crazy. I’m pretty sure he hasn’t left the apartment even when I head off to work, because once he hadn’t moved far.
“Was there a threat against my life that you’re not telling me about?” I finally ask, because as romantic as Oliver’s trying to be, there’s also something obviously wrong, and it needs to be addressed.
He freezes—I don’t even think he’s breathing—before all his air leaves him in one breath. “Digg was right; I have problems.”
I blink at him. Was that meant to be a surprise? It isn’t until he crosses his arms at that that I realize I probably said that aloud. I hadn’t meant to.
“Sleeping inside is too quiet. It’s never quiet unless something’s wrong. Having someone in the room helps, but I’m scared because the last time someone entered the room with me while I was sleeping I nearly strangled my mom and I don’t want to do that again. I couldn’t sleep so I came here, and then I realized your apartment was really easy to get into even for a wounded man and so I was worried. And then I realized it’s a new apartment, obviously, because the address is different, and I’ve never even seen the layout, and I need—” his hands are shaking again, and the words are pouring out like once he started it he can’t stop, and I step forward to tug him toward the couch because if you’re going to have a panic attack a nice, comfy-as-I-can-afford couch is a good place to have one, and he goes willingly which is almost an alarming thing in of itself. “I need to know everything. Entrances, exits, about your neighbors—you’re too vulnerable, if Malcolm’s alive I need to be able to protect you—”
I kiss him, because he’s gone in the deep end and I need to drag him back to the shallows. It’s nice to hear him actually talking about what’s going on in his head these days, better still that he’s aware it’s unhealthy and probably OCD, but he’s also freaking out a lot and I need him to calm down and think. It takes a few tries for him to actually relax—he’s struggling, which makes me feel uncomfortable in my soul, but it’s not me he’s fighting. It’s his inner demons.
Eventually, when I come up for air, his eyes are actually focused, and he looks embarrassed. “Sorry.”
I wave that off—with the scars, it’s obvious he’s been through a lot. Little wonder he’s got mental scars, too. It’s not his fault—he simply lived through it, survived, but of course there’s a price—this isn’t a movie or video game. “You’re not used to being able to ask for help,” I point out, and he looks shocked.
“How…?” he whispers, and.
It hurts.
I swore to myself I’d never tell him, but we’re together now. I’d never even considered that a possibility when I made that promise.
“You’re not the only one with scars.” I pull up my sweater and turn around so Ollie can see my back, right around my hip bone, and I shiver as his hands gently, shakingly trace the outline.
“Who…?” I turn back around—I need to be able to see him when he realizes.
His eyes are wide, but I can see the second he knows. His eyes darken, a storm at sea. “Malcolm.” He spits the name like a curse, before reaching out, pulling me into a hug. “You said it was only the once.”
“I’ve always been a better liar than you, and I never really cared about the physical abuse,” I admit. Honestly, I’d been kind of glad, the few times he’d stopped striking me with words and used his hand instead. “That might’ve been one of the reasons Laurel ended it with me—I couldn’t believe her when she said she loved me, because I could tell she didn’t fully believe it herself, and you’re the only person who’s ever said that to me and meant it.” I think about the words I’ve just said, and amend that to, “…Uh, and pretty much the entire Queen family. Seriously, all of you are awesome.” He still looks slightly stricken, so I add, “Ollie, stop blaming yourself. Like I said, I’m a good liar. If I didn’t want you to know about it, you wouldn’t find out, so there’s nothing you could’ve done about it.”
He eyes me, a fierce, possessive look, before he pulls me into a crushing hug. “I can do something now.” More than just killing my dad, which, actually, the whole Undertaking thing? Actually makes a whole lot more sense now that I think about it. “I can make sure you never doubt that you’re loved again. I can show you that you’re the best person I know.”
Given that I’ve never seen him so driven other than the whole vigilante thing, I can believe he’ll accomplish it, however hard it is.
“Well, I’m going to go with most things that dear old Dad actually disapproved of are good things,” because with showing me who Malcolm Merlyn really is, changing my whole world through coming back, Ollie’s saving me, again. I grin into his shoulder. “Like, maybe, making out with you on this couch.”
“That sounds like a good start,” Oliver agrees, and I can hear the smile on his face, before I kiss his neck and he groans.
When we finally stop acting like teenagers on the couch, I get us Thai—which is still a little too spicy, but given that Oliver seems to have developed an appetite (yet another good reason for the makeout session, thanks Dr. Merlyn) and doesn’t seem to have noticed, I don’t really care. And he’s actually present and paying attention this time when I introduce him to some pop culture he’s missed and start going through the differences between the PS3 and PS4 (I’ll get to Xbox eventually, but one thing at a time). It’s a date, and it’s not the Twilight Zone that I’ve been living in for the past five days, so I’d consider it pretty successful.
