Belongs in a Museum

[madimpossibledreamer]

Main Points:
Arrow/Assassin's Creed
Summary: Ollie and Tommy go on a date.  Their dates never quite go as planned.
Word Count: 1772
Rating: Teen (flirting, violence, nothing too crazy)
that italian is back again, along with the dreaded return of google search+google translate

         “You know caro, you don’t have to agree to everything these days.”  Tommy claps Ollie on the back when he finally joins his boyfriend (late, but then, it’s Ollie; at least he showed up) then laces an arm through Oliver’s as they walk up the steps to the museum.  Queen and Drake attending an exhibition were sure to be news, but then, the fact that they were dating at all was most definitely news.  He can already feel all the stares already.  At least the whispers had begun to get a little less antagonistic, but he credits that entirely to Oliver’s idea of legally changing his last name to his mother’s to distance himself from his father and the Undertaking.  His boyfriend protests that, but it had been his idea to begin with, and Ollie doesn’t give himself enough credit for anything as it is.
         He likes to think at least some of the stares are because they’re handsome, and while his own suit is a little older and worse for wear, Ollie’s in a navy suit he’s never seen before, and it’s bringing out his eyes nicely.
         Oliver beams, and it looks very much like his charming crowd-pleaser, but it’s not.  He’s genuinely happy.  It’s probably something about his eyes?  “I’m not.  Ezio knew Leonardo da Vinci personally,” Ollie explains, voice teasing, leaning closer, earning a wide-eyed stare.
         “You’re serious.”  Ollie rarely isn’t, even when he’s amused—and he’s definitely amused now.  Well, that was something he hadn’t expected.  “Well, what was he like?”
         “When he gets excited about something, he’s adorable, like you.”  The faraway look is back in his eyes, but it’s remembering, not lost somewhere not here.  “He has this…air of innocence.”
         “You think I’m innocent?” Tommy asks incredulously, not sure whether to take that as an insult or not.
         Ollie leans in to whisper in Tommy’s ear, hand settling mid-back.  “You have an innocent soul, but you’re not innocent.”  He’s definitely flirting.  Tommy shivers pleasantly.  Oliver’s at his most charismatic today.  He’s definitely entirely present, too, which is something new. 
         “This isn’t an exhibition of da Vinci’s works, though…” he responds, cursing the fact that his voice is somewhat breathless.
         And now Queen’s smirking.  He’d label it unfair if he didn’t want to avoid making a scene here and now.
         “Ezio painted, too.”  The Assassin shrugs, backing off to give a little breathing room.  “For various reasons my experiences made me curious about art and history.  I’m sure between us you’re the more cultured one, but I don’t think it’s a waste of time like I used to.”
         “We’ll reintegrate you to modern society yet, handsome heathen.”  He claps his friend on the shoulder and smiles at the pout.
         A woman in a well-fitted suit walks up, clipboard in hand.  Tommy takes a moment to admire the fit, while Oliver keeps his eyes carefully on her face.  His stance has changed from the relaxed one he’s managed to regain with Tommy’s help to the ready Assassin stance.  She’s registering as a threat, which feels more like just jealousy than instinct.  Still, he can’t bring himself to relax.  “Mr. Queen, Mr. Drake.  It’s a pleasant surprise to find you in a museum.  Are you planning a donation?”
         Oliver’s face freezes—there’s still a smile there, but it’s not genuine anymore.  “I had been planning on it, yes.”  There’s still something slightly frosty in his tone. 
         “I don’t have quite the same resources I used to,” Tommy responds with a smile, “…but lucky for you, I budgeted for this.”  He pulls out a few bills from his wallet to show.
         “Well, there’s quite a lot to go see, so if you’ll excuse us,” Oliver tries to insist, jaw clenching.  Hoping for it to be semi-private was maybe a vain hope, but still, it’s annoying.
         “I could give you the tour, if you want,” she suggests.  Tommy probably won’t have a problem with it, because he doesn’t mind groups, while Oliver prefers to avoid too many strangers as it makes him twitchy.  Still, he doesn’t want to have an argument in front of her, in public, over something his boyfriend doesn’t see as a problem.  He carefully doesn’t let his hand clench.
         Think of it as information gathering before a mission.  He doesn’t have to act, immediately, just watch and listen.
         “We would be delighted.”  Tommy steps slightly further away, only to lace his hand through Oliver’s with a smile.
         Of course, Drake’s not oblivious, now, is he?  But then, Leonardo wasn’t, either.  He knew full well as a pacifist what his inventions were bound to lead.  They knew, they valued life, but they weren’t angry, either.  Other than his best friend’s initial ‘murderer’ reaction. 
         So Oliver doesn’t argue, just manages a fake smile, squeezes the hand in his own and allows himself to just listen and watch.
         He doesn’t know much about the Edo period.  No doubt Tommy knows more—he’d mentioned something about some video game or other to Thea, who might visit later, she’d said—he’d been attempting to listen to a mission briefing at the time, or he would’ve paid more attention.
         He doesn’t learn a lot now, either, mostly because he’s paying more attention to Tommy and the woman, but he does learn a little.  It does sound interesting—the last days of the samurai, a period of isolationism, famous pictures and artifacts.  The sword is interesting, and Oliver wants to try it out, but he’s aware that’s not a normal reaction people have to a sharp object, so he doesn’t voice that.  Most of the works of art are vaguely familiar but are, according to the museum curator, only copies—the originals are elsewhere.
         Tommy’s carrying on a conversation about the pieces and the history and it’s what he’d wanted to hear here, only without accompaniament.
         “You’re awfully quiet,” she states at some point, and Oliver manages another perfectly social smile.
         “I’ve dropped out of so many colleges I have to concentrate to pay attention this time,” he responds.  His boyfriend glares, giving a warning squeeze of the hand, and her smile briefly freezes before she leads them over into a employees-only area to a desk. 
         “We’ve also had some replicas made for display and handling for the general public.  We haven’t set up the display yet, but I thought the two of you would find it interesting.  Feel free to handle the artifacts; they’re not real.  This one is made in the style of a traditional kabuki costume…” she begins.
         Tommy reaches out to feel the fabric and staggers.
          “Tommy, are you okay?” Ollie asks urgently, hands carefully on his findanzato’s shoulders, but it hurts it hurts ithurtsithurtsithurts—
         “I see—make it stop—”  His voice is barely recognizable, and then, it is gone.  He collapses into Oliver’s arms.
         Oliver slowly lowers Tommy to the floor, verifying heartbeat, breathing, glaring at the museum curator all the while.  Once he’s down, it’s an easy enough matter to step over his body and slam the curator into the wall, holding her in place, violence at the ready.  She’s shaking, afraid.  Because he’s an Assassin?
         “What did you do to him?” he growls, and she’s shaking under his hands.
         “I—I didn’t—what happened?”  It takes him a moment, two, shaking with the adrenaline and need for violence before it finally sinks in—she’s innocent.  She means it.  She honestly doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
         He drops her quickly, backs away, because he had been seconds from using his hidden blade on her.  He was about to kill an innocent, all from some misguided jealousy.  The horror must show in his eyes. 
         She’s gasping, but manages a smile, somehow.  “I’ll be honest, when I heard you two were dating, I thought it was some sort of publicity stunt.  I was wrong.”  She nods in Tommy’s direction.  “Is he okay?
         “It’s a migraine, probably.  Sorry about that.  I shouldn’t—”  He closes his eyes, reminds himself—normal, don’t act as an Assassin.  “I’m not used to actually having a date that I care about staying with me.”  He crouches down next to Tommy, who still looks a little in pain, though he settles a little once Oliver slips a hand once more into his own.  With his other hand, Ollie massages Tommy’s forehead.  Now that he’s thinking more normally, he realizes that he’s probably not lying.  His boyfriend had gotten really excited about having the Eagle Vision and being useful, but he’d gotten terrible migraines from using it too much.  From the few things Ollie could remember, Altaïr at least got a few headaches, early on when he’d developed it.  Ezio hadn’t, but then, he’d had Eagle Vision, as far as anyone could tell, since he’d been born.  Developing the Sight…it was a new sense, one most humans didn’t share.  It’d make sense that it would be difficult for the brain to get it to work, that there would be side effects.  And he’d mentioned seeing something before he’d fainted.  “The jealousy kind of caught me by surprise.”
         “Me too, but it’s kind of sweet.”  At the raised eyebrow, she amends that to, “…the fact that you actually care.  Not the jealousy.  That’s a little too Twilight for me.”
         “Tommy told me I’m better off not knowing what that is,” he responds with a smile.
         “He’s not wrong.  I’m not really a book burning person but I’m tempted with that one.”  They share a smile.
         Before she shakes her head and adds, “Maybe I don’t have a great sense of self-preservation, but Mr. Queen, if you’re going to be a vigilante, you have to be a little better about this.  Is there anything I can do to help?”
         He blinks at her.
         “You…thought you were being subtle, didn’t you?” she asks, confused.
         “The police already looked into it and found I wasn’t him,” he protests, but the look she’s giving him reminds him of Moira.  And Thea.  And Digg.
         “I will give you props for pulling that off, somehow, given that probably half of Starling City have probably figured out who you are by this point.  Even if it was just a suspicion, picking me up and barking at me was a bit of a big clue.”  She leans back against the wall.  So she had been worried about being killed, and knew who he was, and still was confronting him.  She’s really brave, and possibly stupid, but.
         “He’s fine—or he will be.”  And when he wakes up, he can say whether or not she should be trusted, assuming Eagle Vision doesn’t hurt too badly.