A Wounded Assassin

[madimpossibledreamer]

Main Points:
Arrow/Assassin's Creed; First Person used (Ollie POV)
Summary: EDIT: whoops, true summary is Tommy steps in to help out.
Word Count: 1,345
Rating: Teen
surprise! it's more italian
EDITED ALL THE MISTAKES AAAGH

          I wince and plaster myself against the wall, breath fast and uneven.  I’m not whimpering or making any other noises—I’m used to pain, but there’s only so far I can push myself, especially when one of them had the bright idea to slash me.  It’s better than being stabbed, or shot…drugged, mind-controlled, attacked with a Piece of Eden…but coupling that with running along roofs, and it adds up.  Quickly.
          “Ollie?”  For a moment, I think I’m hallucinating, wanting safety and conjuring a familiar face, all in the yearning for safe, but no, I was wrong.  It’s Tommy.  He’s in a casual outfit, which for him means jeans, one of those ridiculous Arrow hoodies he loves so much, and a button-up shirt underneath it all, because the man I love has his…quirks.  He looks innocent, happy.  Like he’d been out, maybe to a movie, maybe shopping, enjoying himself.  I feel a stab of guilt, worse than the pain from the wound—he doesn’t deserve to have me in his life; I’m just hurting someone so pure—
          “Arrow?” he corrects himself quickly, moving to my side—my reflexes are a little slow, right now.  “How badly are you hurt?”
          “Drake,” I growl, “…you need to…get away…”  It’s not safe.
          “Macché!” he responds determinedly and grabs my arm carefully but quickly, putting it around his shoulders.  “Wound.  Dagger?” he asks, and it…well, it’s weird.  I’ve never seen him like this before, other than his stubbornness getting me to talk.  It’s almost to the point where I could see him as a fighter, which is a thought that doesn’t quite work in my head, and more than the pain, it’s that which has me off kilter.  Still, I’m not responding, which is definitely making him panic.
          He grabs at my leg and I blink at him—is he feeling me up now?
          I wonder about that for all of two seconds before he throws a knife he’d taken from me behind me.  I glance behind me, dazed, to see a man go down, clawing at his shoulder, and glance back at Tommy, who smirks a little.
          “Look, just because I’m a pacifist doesn’t mean I don’t know how to fight.  I’m the son of a Templar, remember?  Bonding time with Daddy that didn’t involve him yelling at me and telling me how inadequate I am involved weapons.  Lots and lots of weapons.  I’m a decent shot with a gun and I’m okay with daggers.  I’ll never be good with a bow like you or our sister, but.”  He smiles and shrugs a little, taking care not to jar my arm, like this isn’t big.  Like I’m not uncomfortably turned on by this, though the pain is a good focus if anything is.
          “I really, really want to kiss you right now,” I manage, still with the Arrow’s deeper voice, and he laughs, uncomfortably.  I think he's noticed my problem.
          “Really?  You a BSDM man, Mr. Arrow?”  He’s joking about it, but he’s also a little uncomfortable about it.
          “No, Mr. Drake, I’m not,” I reassure him, doing my best to walk with him naturally.  You know, apart from all the leather I’m wearing.  Not doing a good job convincing anyone this isn’t kinky.  “You just don’t seem like a fighting man, and someone who can handle themselves?”  I smile a little at him, focusing.  Tommy might be able to handle himself, to some extent, but there are still enemies, I’m wounded, and I lost track of Thea.  Not the time to get distracted.  “Very sexy.”
          Tommy frowns.  “You’re hitting on me.  I think you might be in shock.”  Which isn’t usually something he complains about, unless it’s the fact that we’re in public and it’s my vigilante identity that’s the problem…
          It takes me a moment before I realize how he took it and groan.  “That is not what I meant.”  Between Thea and Tommy, it’s like they’re trying to kill me with sheer embarrassment.
          He chuckles a little and resettles me and I realize I’m hiding my head in his shoulder.
          “So, where are you—” he starts, before grabbing another knife, this one from my waist, and stabs a hand grabbing at us.
          “Arm, but the jumps after were definitely a bad idea.”  I don’t have to hide my failings, for fear that vulnerability will get me killed.  I can admit a mistake, and learn from it.
          There’s the sound of an arrow hitting flesh, and the owner of the grasping hand grunts and falls back away from us.  Thea drops beside us, silent in all ways beside the color of her outfit.  “He missed a grab and fell, too—that’s when I lost track of him.  You’re fast on your feet, fratello.”
          I wave that off, upset that she’d even bring that up.  Just because she’s mad at me and wants backup, that’s a coward’s way.  “I’ll just be slightly bruised.  I know how to fall.”
          Thea nearly growls at me.  “Idiota.  That’s more than a little bruise and you know it.”
          “I’ll keep him safely in bed until he heals,” Tommy volunteers, squeezing my hand gently.
          “Please, give me details,” Thea begs.
          I pull out one of the arrows from my quiver and stab the woman behind Thea.  She drops.  There’s no spray of blood, so it’s not hit the carotid, which is probably good because I’m wounded and getting me home and treated without harassment is a good idea and blood doesn’t magically disappear from clothes as you walk around.  “Wait until we’re home and I’m passed out and then you two can tease me.  Never forget your surroundings, Thea.”
          The fierce, Queen part of her wants to argue.  The Assassin-in-training in her has her inclining her head in acknowledgement.
          “Let us take care of you,” Tommy insists, gentle and fierce, and I absolutely can’t argue with that.