The Truth They Need

[madimpossibledreamer]

Main Points:
Arrow/Assassin's Creed; the Templar!Tommy one
Summary: Tommy is a little drunk, but he was overdue a little breakdown.
Word Count: 1006
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Tommy/Oliver
Warning: aforementioned being drunk

         “You were in Hong Kong.” He doesn’t bother explaining why he’d broken into their club after hours just to drink. He’s not even in much of a maudlin mood. If he can’t explain to himself, how could he begin to explain to anyone else?
         “I’m sorry,” Oliver says, and he sounds like he means it, which is just...the weirdest thing.
         Maybe he’s drunk. “What for?” he asks, and no answer comes, so he twists around to try to see Ollie’s face, only he can’t make out much upside down.
         That twist of the lips says he’s hurting, though. Or, no, worried maybe? Either way, he shouldn’t be making faces like that. It makes Tommy feel like he failed somehow, and he hates that feeling.
         “I know as your wingman I’m not supposed to be responsible, but. I think you’ve had enough, buddy.” He takes away the glass, and Tommy thinks seriously for two seconds about mourning its loss or getting mad, but—nah. This is his best friend, who was gone, and now he’s not, and so he can’t be mad about it, and he’s already mourned something a lot better than alcohol, only now he doesn’t have to mourn. Never again.
         “I’m serious, though. Maybe if I wasn’t…” he sloppily tries to make the sign of the Templar cross and it’s so bad he kind of has to admit he’s drunk now. Those are the rules. “I wouldn’t get it, but I am, so.” A thought occurs to him, and he pulls Ollie into a hug, and wonder of wonders Ollie lets him. He is so in love with this man. “You ever need me to kidnap you to keep you safe, I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”
         “You would, huh.” Ollie sounds amused, which wasn’t the plan, but he’s showing normal-people emotions, so Tommy’ll allow it. This one time. Because he means it, and he needs Oliver to know that.
         “In a heartbeat,” he confirms, repeating himself because this is Important. His eyes are so very big and so very blue from here, and Tommy would very much like to kiss him right now.
         “Maybe later.” That’s probably a yes. Score! “You’re a little too drunk to go home, though. Your filter is gone. Is your apartment…?”
         Bugged? Yeah? Probably? Hell, Tommy doesn’t know, he hasn’t been asking all the questions he should’ve been asking, but this whole vengeance thing felt good and so did actually getting along with his dad for once in his miserable life.
         “Not like I asked questions, either,” Oliver murmurs, a solid, supporting pillar at his side, except pillars aren’t hunks, and even if he really, really wants sex right now, kind Oliver is no hardship, either. Taking care of him like he’s cared for. Like he’s loved.
         “You are,” Ollie tells him, and he’s too out of it to tell if it’s a lie. “I mean it. No hating yourself unless you hate me too, okay.”
         Tommy tilts his head a little, thinking that over, like a proper contract between two parties. Like a pinky promise when they were little. “’Cause we can take anything together,” he works out, and Oliver pats him, like he’s a smart boy for having figured it out. He tries not to let it go to his head, before he realizes it can’t. His head’s just full of alcohol. There’s no room left for anything else. “’kay.” He yawns and settles in a little, but doesn’t fall asleep. He shouldn’t, he knows, but more to the point he doesn’t want to. He just wants to sit here and bask in the fact that Ollie’s here.
         “My house? You’ve stayed over enough no one will really mind,” Oliver suggests. Somewhere along the line, he became the smart one. That’s fine, though. Tommy’s still the funny one. He’s still got something.
         “You sure do.” Okay, yep, definitely flirting, good to know. Not that, you know, he was unsure before, just...it’s nice to have reminders.
         “You know how I said I was dealing with the whole ‘destroy the city’ plan?” He makes sure to say it out loud. Not like he’s probably going to say it anyway, judging by the fact Ollie’s responding, unless he’s suddenly developed telepathy or something, but this is important enough he actually wants to say it. On purpose.
         “Yeah.” He doesn’t have to agree, but he does anyway. It’s nice.
         “I’m not. I don’t know if it’s that Dad’s doing it or that I wouldn’t have cared if you...if you hadn’t made me think.” He’s pretty sure the second one’s worse, but he’s not sure sure.
         “Yeah, I figured,” Ollie agrees gently—so he’s been watching. That’s nice. Hopefully Tommy gave him a good enough show. “We’ve been both making a lot of progress since I got back, so...don’t worry about it too much.”
         Tommy’s leaned against something, and it’s cool and hard like Ollie, but it’s not as comfortable, and he finds himself pouting. It makes him think, though, so maybe that’s the point. “More of that ‘I can’t hate myself unless I hate you’ thing?” he guesses, when his best friend returns and helps him sit down—car, it’s a car, get a grip Merlyn.
         “Yeah.” He doesn’t say anything else—maybe it’s the fact that he’s not driving, so they can’t be alone—but it’s still comfortable, and he helps Tommy lay down and runs calloused fingers through Tommy’s hair, and Tommy sighs happily and leans into the touch. Like a cat. Like the world’s drunkest cat. He doesn’t even have to sleep. Maybe he doesn’t even need to eat or drink. It feels like he could get everything he needs, just lying here. He’s happy, he realizes, in a way he hasn’t been in...god he doesn’t even remember.
         “Me either.” He doesn’t know if he’s just imagining it or if Ollie did actually just whisper that, but either way, that made it even better. If he could purr, he would. This is nice, and later is later.