Disclaimer: I do not own Arrow or its characters.

Tommy woke up slowly, eyes bleary and mouth dry. Hangover, he thought wearily. Turning his head to the side, he couldn't help but smile as he noticed the shiny dark head of hair beside him. Abandoning his original plan to leave the bed, he snuggled in closer, running his hand over the sheets to trace the curves of her body. The increased proximity alerted Tommy to the fact that they were both naked. "How much did you let me drink last night?" he asked playfully, nuzzling his face into her ear. He gently smoothed the dark hair from her face and-

"Shit!" Tommy exclaimed, backing away from the girl with a start. That was NOT Laurel in the bed with him. What the hell had he done? Had he cheated on her with this random girl? Tommy stole another glance at her – he didn't even recognize her.

Uneasily, Tommy realized that his sudden movement had not agreed with him. How much did I drink? Tommy wondered. He felt sick, partially from the alcohol, and partially from the realization that he had cheated on…

Wait. No.

Tommy slumped against the pillows. He'd broken up with Laurel yesterday. What a fucking cliché, Tommy thought to himself. Takes you less than 24 hours to completely revert to your screw-up ways. He forced himself to sit up in the bed and take in the scene around him. He was in a hotel room – an expensive one, from the looks of it. Tommy narrowed his eyes and looked more closely – he recognized this place. He was in the Starling Monarch, his old stomping ground from back in the day. This is where he'd take his one-night stands, especially the ones he didn't particularly trust…

Growing more alarmed, Tommy looked carefully at the dark haired girl next to him. She looked more than a little bit like Laurel. Probably why I picked her, Tommy thought wryly. The hair was the same and so was the skin tone. Suddenly, Tommy felt his other leg brush up against something warm. He froze and directed his attention to the other side of the king-size bed. Another girl. A part of him didn't even want to look. She was blonde and petite, with smeared makeup. And naked, of course.

Tommy threw off his sheet, not caring if he disturbed the sleeping women – though, judging by the looks of them, it was more than just exhaustion that was fueling their slumber. Had he taken anything last night, besides alcohol? Tommy went straight to the bathroom, locked the door from the inside, and began retching. Once he had fully emptied the contents of his stomach, he finally stood up shakily and forced himself to drink a glass of water. Setting the glass down on the counter, he looked in the mirror. He winced, partially from the over-bright lights that made his head ache and partially from the sight of his own reflection. He looked like shit. Hair was a mess, eyes were red with dark rings around them, and, oh god, definitely a hickey above his hip bone. He could feel scratch marks on his back before he even turned around to look.

Not even bothering to grab a towel, Tommy went straight to the shower and turned the water temperature nearly to the maximum. He loved hot showers, but somehow Laurel had liked them even hotter.

Laurel… how had he screwed this up so much, so fast? Laurel had looked so upset, but he had just kept going with his bullshit breakup. And look at him now. Didn't this prove that he couldn't handle things with Laurel if, less than 24 hours after breaking up with her, he was back in the Monarch, drunk off his ass, and involved in a threesome he couldn't even remember?

Tommy let the water beat down on him, not even reaching for soap. He was bitterly disappointed with himself, and he could feel the pull of his old ways creeping up on him. He'd spent many a morning in the Monarch feeling much like this. He hadn't remembered just how bad the hangovers could feel, but what he DID remember was his way of dealing with them. Even now the urge was clawing at him – go to someone, get some cocaine, get on with the day. Or, take something that would knock him out till night and repeat all over again. Oxy was always good for taking the edge off a hangover. Mellowed him out. It was harder to get now, though, and even in the really bad years Tommy had been scared to mess with heroin. Vertigo was the new thing, but he'd never tried it. A part of him wondered what it would be like...

"Stop it," Tommy muttered to himself. He had been doing better, hadn't he? No drugs, minimal booze, working a job he believed in, earning his own money, and sleeping with only one woman. But what a woman. Tommy sighed. It certainly hadn't been love at first sight – she'd been with Oliver, after all. Back then, Tommy remembered resenting Laurel. To him, she was just an obstacle getting in the way of him and Oliver being able to go out and party. He still remembered the night when Oliver had come to him and confessed that she'd asked him to move in together. "Don't do it, man," Tommy remembered saying. It had nothing to do with Laurel and Oliver or their compatibility. In fact, they actually seemed to get along well. It had everything to do with the negative impact it would have on Tommy's life. Oliver had been his partner in (sometimes actual) crime. Women, drugs, parties, cars – he could always count on Oliver to be right by his side. So he'd told Oliver to shut things down with Laurel.

Tommy had been horrified when he'd heard about the Queen's Gambit. Everyone had been. He went hard into drugs after that. To this day, he knew that if he ever should have gone to rehab, it was then. He was taking shit just to get out of bed in the morning, mixing pills, doing anything to drown out the feelings of guilt. He'd told Oliver not to move in with Laurel, to end things. When he really thought about it, he knew that it wasn't his fault that Oliver invited Laurel's goddamn sister along, but that still didn't erase the guilt. And he couldn't help but feel that a little fate or karma was involved too. Because hadn't he encouraged Oliver to ditch Laurel out of fear that Oliver would have less time for him? After the Queen's Gambit, Oliver was gone from his (and everyone else's) life completely. These weren't things that Tommy could share with other people, obviously. So for the next three and a half years he boozed and he fucked and just generally became a stereotypical rich kid screw-up.

Until the fight. A new nightclub, Cirque, was having its opening night, and of course Tommy was on the list. He'd done some coke with one of his favorite girlfriends, spent way too much on sashimi and champagne, and made his way over to the club. Looking back now, he could admit that the place was lacking, especially for an opening night. He'd run into some old high school friends there, and things were fine until one of the guys, Gerald, made what he thought was an offhand comment. Tommy could still remember Gerald's exact words: "Man, Oliver Queen should be happy he'd dead so he doesn't have to see this lame-ass place."

With the advantage of hindsight, Tommy could acknowledge that Gerald had just been trying to make a joke, albeit a distasteful one. At the time, though, Tommy had absolutely snapped. The police report said that Tommy began screaming obscenities and the situation escalated into a physical confrontation. Gerald had needed stitches over his eyebrow and had suffered a broken nose. Tommy lost a tooth and caused some fairly extensive property damage. Tommy hadn't been altogether surprised when he got served with a lawsuit. His father's reaction had been predictable; within hours, Tommy was meeting with a high-powered, high-paid attorney. When it came time to explain his side of the story to the attorney in detail, Tommy was met with blank stares, confusion, and plenty of questions: "So what exactly made you so mad?" "Are you sure he didn't say anything else to you?" "Why was his comment so upsetting to you?" They just didn't understand. No one would understand his reaction, except maybe…

Laurel. Of course. Tommy knew she had gone to law school, and he supposed that she had graduated. Tommy hadn't talked to her since Oliver had died, but somehow it felt like the most natural thing in the world to fire his dad's lawyer and track Laurel down at CNRI. She's been surprised to see him – a bit distant, but cordial. She asked what brought him in, and he was vague, hemming and hawing about a fight and a lawsuit. She seemed to sense that there was more to the story, and took him into a private conference room. There was something about her presence, about knowing that she had known Oliver on a deep level that allowed Tommy to let go with her. He told her the facts, of course – what Gerald had said, how Tommy had responded, but he also told her more. About how much he missed Oliver, about how guilty he felt for reacting badly to the news that she and Oliver wanted to move in together, about what he'd said to Oliver, and about the many unhealthy ways he'd tried to forget. Laurel had let him talk, and when he was done she had hugged him. A week after Laurel settled the lawsuit out of court, she and Tommy were having dinner. By the end of the evening, they had slept together. After a while, she'd pulled back, and so had he, but when things finally began working, god, they worked. She was beautiful, smart, and so passionate about her work and helping other people. He loved her.

Problem was, so did Oliver.

Tommy grit his teeth. Oliver… He was the reason that Tommy and Laurel had come together, and he was the reason that Tommy had just ended things. Thinking about Oliver resulted in a wave of mixed emotions for Tommy. He could understand drunk, stupid, playboy Ollie. He could even understand withdrawn, serious, detached Oliver. But this thing he'd turned into… it was so beyond everything Tommy knew of his onetime best friend. What the hell happened to him? What could he have possibly been through that could have resulted in such a fundamental change and so much darkness?

Tommy knew that his own darkness ran much closer to the surface. It had always been there, and it was much easier for him to understand. Here in this hotel bathroom, Tommy had a choice. Years of conditioning were screaming at him to just dial his old dealer and get some pills. It would be familiar. It would be known. But the nagging part of his conscience that sounded a lot like Laurel was urging him to run the opposite way, away from the booze and the drugs and go… where?

It couldn't be back to her. It couldn't be back to Oliver and Verdant. Because deep down, Tommy knew he was a coward. Maybe someday he wouldn't be, but he was right now. He was scared of so many things. Scared of going back to the drugs. Scared of wasting his life. Scared to be left by another person he cared about; he'd lost his mother, he'd lost Oliver, and he nearly lost his father. Scared to really talk to Laurel about his feelings for her. Scared of the way Laurel was still so linked to Oliver and the Hood. Scared to go head to head with Oliver for Laurel's affections. Scared of Oliver. Scared for Oliver. And terrified to make a next move all on his own.

Dripping wet, Tommy exited the shower. He marched resolutely into the suite, retrieved his clothes, and quickly dressed. Grabbing the rest of his belongings, he quietly left the room and settled his bill with the front desk. He exited the hotel, walked straight to a nearby café, and ordered a strong black coffee. Resolutely, he dialed a familiar number and waited.

"Hello?"

"Hi Dad. I was hoping we could talk..."

The End.

Thanks for reading my first Arrow story! I hope you enjoyed it!