Chapter One: Alice B Toklas Was Here.
Tommy had loved Laurel Lance from the first time he'd laid eyes on her.
There was just something about her, this poise and grace that seemed almost timeless, ageless. He'd never admit this to anyone, not even Ollie (especially not Ollie because he'd never let him live it down), but the first time he saw Laurel he thought about his mom. Not that Laurel and his mother looked anything alike, and not that he was attracted to women who looked like his mother even if they did, but he thought about her in the same way his father thought about his mother before she died. He called Rebecca Merlyn his 'princess' because he said it suited her. When someone, usually some reporter, would ask why, he'd smile and say that to him, she always looked like a young Grace Kelly and that she was his very own fairy tale princess brought to life. That was his best childhood memory of his all too often absent father; Malcolm would come home and immediately enfold Tommy's mother into his arms, bury his nose in her pale gold hair, and whisper, "Hello Princess."
Laurel had the same poise his mother had, the same fluid grace. She moved like a dancer, long legs and lithe limbs and, as a consequence to that, he fell hard.
So hard, he couldn't even bring himself to talk to her.
"This is…so fucking depressing," Ollie said from beside him as he pulled his knit cap over his eyes and rested his head in his folded arms.
"You know what's depressing?" Tommy said sarcastically. "That it's ninety degrees outside and you're wearing that stupid Rasta skull cap."
"I'm hung over," he grumbled without lifting his head.
"You're always hung over; you'd think you'd be used to it by now."
"I should, but I'm not," he said, lifting his head as he inhaled sharply and rubbed his hands over his eyes. "Oh man, I feel like shit. What the fuck did I drink last night?"
"What didn't you drink?" He asked dryly, never taking his eyes off Laurel as she and her friends laughed together from across the quad.
"Why aren't you hung over?" He asked, glaring at him with bloodshot eyes.
"Because I stuck mostly to weed. Ironic that, of the two, alcohol is legal and yet I'm the one who is still somewhat functional the next morning while you look like hammered dog shit."
"You know, you are totally turning into one of those holier than thou legalize weed douche-bros," he grumped then looked at him curiously, "Got any left?"
"Naw, Jeremy brought it," he told him absently as he watched Laurel squeal and run from her friend as she tossed some ice from her cup at her. "I only got a couple of hits off it anyway. I swear, Jeremy is such a fucking asshole. Whenever I get some X or some blow he's all over my ass for a free hit or a bump, but he won't even part with a single joint." He tossed him a look, "Plus he can't roll for crap. His shit was sad, man."
"Was it any good?" He asked curiously.
"Decent," he admitted. "I'll admit to being pleasantly surprised. It wasn't at all like that ditch weed and schwag he usually carries. You know, not like that brick he tried to pass off on us last time that tasted like it was dried in the microwave next to a frozen burrito; *that* shit sucked so bad I couldn't even get a decent buzz off of it. This new shit though; it was actually pretty smooth, but he still didn't know what to do with it. His mix was off, he didn't grind the bud so there were hard chunks and stalks in it, and his papers were so loose I had to re-roll the spliff. Plus, he didn't even know how to make a roach; instead he figured he could use the filter off a Marley. I wound up having to do a goddamn weed tutorial in the middle of the party only to barely get a hit off it before he wet sucked the shit out of the thing like he was giving it a blowjob. I wasn't about to put it back in my mouth by the time he was done with it."
"Goddamn amateur hour," the other man commiserated.
"I'm telling you, it was a waste of good dank," he agreed shaking his head. "And he used *hemp* paper instead of rice paper; I guess he figured it would add to the high, but all you could taste was the paper! I mean, what the fuck? And we're talking quality fresh green; it was a damn shame! I swear, it was like watching him turn a lady into a whore. I just had to step in and do the chivalrous thing, man. Seriously, Jeremy's smoked enough weed that he should know this shit already."
"Where the hell did Jeremy get decent bud anyway?" He snorted.
"Somebody said he has the hook up with a guy into hydroponics," he smiled as the woman of his dreams chased her friend then began to kiss her on the cheek playfully as the other woman tried to push her away. He caught the look on Ollie's face, "What?"
"I'm almost embarrassed to be seen with you, you know that? This is just…pitiful," he said disgustedly. "You're Tommy fucking Merlyn! Just go ask her out!"
"I will," he said defensively.
"When?"
"Eventually," he muttered.
"You and Caroline have been over for a year! Sack up, dude; it's just Laurel!" He said rolling his eyes. "Just go up to her and tell her you want to hook up, so I don't have to watch you stalk her anymore."
"Hey, first off, that's the mother of my future children you're talking about, not some random hook up, so watch it. Secondly, I'm not stalking her," he said with a frown. "I'm merely observing her from a distance."
"All you need is a white paneled van and a roll of duct tape and you could totally be a stalker," he said flatly.
"That's not a stalker, that's a serial killer; I want to date her not stab her in the shower."
"Not with a knife anyway," he said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a small silver flask then hiding his soda under the table so he could doctor it a little.
"That was both disturbing and highly inappropriate."
"I try," Ollie said, taking a deep drink from the can.
"Getting wasted and it's not even eight in the morning yet; nice," Tommy said arching an eyebrow.
"Hair of the dog. Want some?" He asked, offering him the flask, "Might help give you the courage to actually talk to your future whatever over there."
Tommy looked at the flask before reluctantly reaching for it and taking a quick drink. He made a slight noise of disgust as the warm vodka burned a path down to his stomach then rose to his feet, "Okay, I'm going in." He took a single step in her direction before turning to Ollie who still looked like death warmed over, "Are you coming or what?"
He squinted up at him, "Why do I need to go?"
"Moral support."
"You know, you can be such a girl sometimes," he bitched as he reluctantly rose from the bench. "Next thing you know, you'll want us to hold hands as we go skipping through the wildflowers together like in freaking Little House on the Prairie." Tommy playfully reached for his hand causing Ollie to burst out in a pained laugh, "Fuck, ow! Don't make me laugh, man; seriously."
"I loved Little House," he said in mock sincerity.
Ollie snorted, "Yeah, I know that, asshole. I'm the one who had to watch that shit with you."
"'Had to watch', my ass," he scoffed as they made their way towards the group of girls. "You were all 'I'm gonna marry Laura someday!'"
"Hey, Laura was hot," he deadpanned. "You're the one who was all hung up on the brainy blonde sister, what's her face."
"Mary," he nodded with a slow grin, "Hot, blonde, and tragically struck blind at a young age. It's got it all, man; drama, tragedy, romance, plus she had a job so she could support me if my dad ever did actually cut me off without a dime."
"You are one sick twist, Tommy Merlyn," Ollie chuckled.
"Why yes, yes I am," he said proudly.
As they neared the group, McKenna took one look at the two of them and grinned, "You're holding, aren't you? You guys look totally baked."
"We're not baked," Ollie said, sidling up to her and throwing his arm around her shoulders, "We're drunk, there's a difference."
"I'm still a little baked," Tommy admitted reluctantly.
"Before class even starts; seriously?" Laurel said in disapproval as she glared at Ollie. Sara sidled up to his other side and dug the silver flask from his pocket before taking a quick drink. "Sara!"
"What?" Her younger sister coughed a little before sneaking the flask to McKenna who drank as well before handing it back to Ollie, "You guys are already halfway out of here with one year to go. Meanwhile, I'm still gonna be stuck in this hellhole for another three years."
"Well, you're all going to get expelled if anyone catches you," Laurel said rolling her eyes at them.
"Oh relax," Ollie told her, taking another drink before stuffing it back in his pocket. "You're just worried you won't get to be valedictorian if, God forbid, someone catches you having fun."
"Getting drunk and wasted isn't fun," she said flatly.
"Actually, that's kind of the definition of fun," he returned lazily. "You should try it sometime; might help loosen that stick up your butt."
McKenna and Sara snorted while Laurel continued to shoot him a laser-like glare.
"Not for me, I'm with you; clean living all the way. Gum?" Tommy offered, after popping a couple of pieces in his mouth and chewing.
"No, thank you," she said with a scowl, "And since when do you go for clean living, Tommy Merlyn?"
"Yeah," McKenna grinned as she snatched the gum out of his hand and popped a piece in her mouth as well, "I could have sworn I saw you getting lit at Jeremy's party last night."
"My last hoorah," Tommy said with mock sincerity. "I'm a changed man."
"Right," the other girl said shaking her head.
Laurel, ignoring the rest of them, continued to glare at Ollie, "Seriously, if you get caught with that flask, they'll expel you and you'll blow your chance to get into an Ivy League college."
"Screw college," he said dismissively. "I don't want to go to stupid Harvard anyway. That's my dad's idea, not mine. I want to take a year off and go to Europe so I can expand my mind a little." He turned to Tommy with a quizzical frown, "Amsterdam's in Europe, right?"
"I can't believe you'd just blow off your entire future like that," she said darkly.
"Yeah Ollie, grow up!" Tommy said mockingly as he pasted on a dad-like glower, "You need to learn to take your responsibilities more seriously, young man."
"Damn, Tommy, you sounded just like your old man that time," he said with a hint of genuine praise.
"I've been practicing," he preened.
Sara and McKenna burst out into laughter while Laurel just sighed and shook her head at them, "You two should take your act on the road. Like now and very far down the road where we don't have to hear it."
"You know you love me," Ollie said with a rakish smirk.
"You wish," Laurel said flatly.
"You guys are so married!" McKenna said, pointing between them.
The other girl arched her eyebrow, "Not even."
"Yeah, you totally are," Sara agreed.
"Plus, you two did date a couple of times, right?" McKenna added mischievously. "I'm telling you; in a few years you're totally going to be Mr. and Mrs. Ollie Queen."
"More like Mrs. and Mr. Laurel Lance, 'cause Laurel is totally going to have him whipped by the time she gets done with him," Sara snorted.
"Wait, what?" Tommy said in surprise. He looked over at Ollie with a frown, "When did you two go out?"
"It was nothing," Ollie waved him off.
"Less than nothing," Laurel said in clipped tones.
"It was like a couple of dates last summer when you went to Australia with your old man," he shrugged. "Tell you the truth, it didn't even count as 'dating'; more like we were both at the same party and hung out a little. I'd pretty much forgotten about it until just now."
"Ouch," McKenna said with a wince as Laurel shot him a filthy look of near murderous rage.
"Maybe if you hadn't been drunk off your ass with your tongue down some other girl's throat, you might have remembered," she said icily.
Ollie merely leaned back on his heels, his hands stuck deep in the front pockets of his jeans, and grinned indolently in response, "What can I say? I was bored and eager for…'stimulation' wherever I could find it." He ducked his head a little and muttered under his breath, "God knows I wasn't getting any from you."
"That's because I'm not one of your skanks," Laurel said flatly. "Unlike you and the women you 'date', I actually have some self-respect."
"I had self-respect once," he said with a yawn, "but then I decided to have fun instead."
"I'm going to class," Laurel snapped, grabbing her backpack and turning on her heels, "Not that 'class' is a word you'd be familiar with."
"It's not that I'm unfamiliar with it, it's just that I really don't give a shit," he said, his lazy grin never wavering.
Laurel made an aggravated noise and stomped off, her sister and best friend hurrying to catch up to her.
"Fucking asshole!" Tommy said, punching him in the arm as he watched her stalk away angrily.
"She started it," he said rubbing his arm with a whine.
"Thanks to you I didn't get a chance to ask her out, shit head!"
The bell rang and Ollie sighed, "Dude, seriously, you don't have to ask her out. Brandon's holding an end of the year blow out on Saturday and I know for a fact that she's going along with McKenna; just hook up with her there, man. Shit."
"Oh. Well okay," he said, somewhat mollified. He threw his buddy another look of discontentment, "Hey, why didn't you tell me you hooked up with Laurel over the summer, man? You knew I had a thing for her for a while now."
"Honestly man, I forgot," He said shaking his head. "Seriously, it was just like I said; I showed up someplace and she'd be there, then we'd hang. I never even thought of it as 'dating' but apparently Laurel must have." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "I mean, seriously; I may be a douche but if I had known I was on a date, I would've stopped banging Traci Arbogast when she walked in on us and invited her along for the ride."
"Why am I friends with you?" Tommy said, shaking his head in disgust.
"No fucking clue." The second bell rang and Ollie turned to him with a frown, "Ah shit, guess that makes us tardy."
"Yup," he agreed, but made no move to hurry along to class.
"You ever get the digits to Jeremy's DD with the hydro hook up?" Tommy threw him a wry glare. "Sorry man, stupid question." He looked at him curiously, "Wanna go make a run and spend the rest of the day making party favors with me? Brandon put me in charge of the refreshment committee and my normal weed guy has been trying to pass off inferior stock so I'm seriously thinking about cutting him loose."
"Yeah, might as well," he said, already heading towards the parking lot.
"You think he'll let us sample some if we offer to buy some honey butter? Might help with this rager of a headache plus I'm thinking about baking some brownies."
"Dude, again, it's like eight in the morning; show some restraint," Tommy told him as they slipped inside his convertible.
"Feels like 4:20 to me," he said with a grin as they took off.
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It turned out that Jeremy's hook up was an Ag student at Starling Central University who used to date his sister. The guy was a little spookish about selling to them since he only grew for personal use and had a professor who, like Tommy, was a legalize weed fanatic, so he let him grow on the down low as long as he donated the bulk of his crop to the Medical underground. After convincing him that it was a medical emergency by waving a fat wad under his nose, they got a couple of lids and some hash oil for the brownies along with his assurance that should they need his humanitarian services in the future, he'd be willing to contribute to the cause.
After Ollie glanced at the back seat where they had stashed their stash for the umpteenth time, Tommy sighed, "You are not gonna hot box in my ride, man. I like to never get that stink out of the upholstery the last time you did that shit. Besides, you blaze up in here and we get busted while holding, no amount of parental irresponsibility is going to save us from getting our asses pounded by a couple of hard cores in the clink. Quite frankly, I've got no urge to be some leather daddy's bitch today, thanks."
"But Tommy, my head is killing me," he whined. "C'mon man!"
"So go take an aspirin."
"Fine, stop here so I can buy some," Ollie scowled and motioned for him to pull into a supermarket parking lot. "I need to pick up some brownie mix and a carton of Reds anyway. Think they sell papers here?"
"It's the Valley," he said, as if that should be obvious. "No need though; I got plenty at home."
"Hey man, is your dad still out of town?" He asked as they pulled into a spot near the front.
"When isn't he out of town?" He snorted. "What's worse is that the orphan is visiting so that means I'm stuck with her until he remembers we even exist." He paused, "Well, he remembers she exists at least; it's just me he could give a shit about."
"What is she doing here? I thought she was at some boarding school up in Gotham?"
"I don't know," he said darkly. "Daddy dearest suddenly got a bug up his ass about having her around more since I'm heading to college in a couple of years. I'd say it was empty nest syndrome but it's not like he ever cared about being a full-on parental unit in the first place. The only time he ever pulls the dad card is when he's giving me shit over some perceived fuck up or another; then it's like Malcolm thinks he's being father of the freakin' year or something!"
"What's up with the orphan anyway?" Ollie asked, adopting Tommy's nickname for her. "Why's he care about this kid so much?"
"Fuck if I know," he said dismissively. "She's the daughter of an old buddy of his or something so he's taking care of her."
"You sure she's an orphan and not Malcolm's love child from some Vegas cocktail waitress?" He grinned.
Tommy snorted, "Yeah right; he hasn't so much as looked at another woman since my mom died. He's a friggin' robot! Naw, she's his 'ward'."
Ollie's brow furrowed at that, "What the hell's a 'ward'?"
He shrugged noncommittally, "Basically he's her legal guardian."
"So, what? Does that mean she's adopted or his foster kid or what?"
Tommy could understand his confusion. Malcolm Merlyn was definitely not the type of man who enjoyed parenthood so the idea of him adopting or taking in a child from the foster system was a completely alien concept. "No, I don't know the legalese of it all but apparently; her dad was some old college buddy of his and her mom was just some coked up slut who took off and abandoned her. Malcolm was named her guardian in the dead dad's will so he got this wild hair up his ass about taking care of her; said he didn't want her to be put in the system. I guess you could say that he's her legal 'foster-uncle' or some shit, I don't know," he shrugged again. "He manages the trust fund her dad set up for her so the crack mom doesn't blow it on rock and keeps her at that boarding school most of the time. Until lately that is." He twisted in his seat and gave Ollie a belligerent look, "Do you wanna know what that asshole did the other day?"
"What?"
"He gave her my mom's locket; you know the one she always used to wear?" He said angrily, "Then he told her, right in front of me, that my mom would have loved to have her as a daughter and took my baby picture out of it so he could put their wedding photo in it instead like they were having some kind of goddamn father/daughter Hallmark moment! I about threw up right then and there."
Ollie's face reddened in outrage on his behalf, "Didn't your mom leave that to you to give to your future wife or something?"
After Rebecca died and Malcolm subsequently took off to join an ashram in Tibet, Tommy practically slept with that locket every single night so he knew exactly how important it was to him.
"Yeah, he got it out of my room and just gave it to her, just like that!" He said indignantly. "When I called him out on it he said that at the rate I was going I'd probably wind up losing it or giving it to some random floozy so, at least this way, it would 'stay in the family'. Can you believe that shit? Like the orphan is family?"
"That's bullshit, man," his friend said, shaking his head. "Did you get it back from the kid?"
"No," he said gruffly. "When he told her my mom was basically her mom she burst into tears and started blubbering about it so I just let it go." He offered him a wry grimace, "And now he's out of town until Thursday and I'm stuck babysitting the little creeper."
"You know, we should get some payback and have a get together at your place tonight; test drive some of this hydro."
"Didn't you hear what I said, man? I'm on babysitting duty."
"So? Let the nanny or whatever watch her and we'll hang out in the pool house," he said indolently.
He sighed, "Dad didn't hire one this time. He said that we needed to 'bond' or something so I'm stuck with her by myself after our housekeeper leaves."
"She's like, what? Eight?"
"No, I don't know. I know she's older than that, though. I think she's eleven, maybe twelve; something like that," he said morosely.
"Are you sure?" He asked dubiously, "Because she's not that much bigger than Thea and she's only five."
"Shit, I don't know! Maybe she's a midget! All I know is she acts like she's thirty, plus she talks weird and drives me up the friggin' wall."
"Whatever; just send her to bed early," he told her. "We'll party afterwards; she'll never know."
Everything in Tommy screamed that it was a bad idea but he was still pissed that the little creeper was wearing his mom's necklace, not to mention the fact that his dad had screwed up his whole week with this bonding idea crap.
"Okay, but no one can come over until after the staff leaves and she's down for the night. Plus, I gotta warn you, she's kind of hyper," he said with a grimace. "She's some kind of freaky genius so she's constantly walking all over the place and yammering on about random shit."
"So? We'll slip her some Benadryl or something," he shrugged.
"You can't drug her!" Tommy burst out.
"It's just Benadryl!" He scoffed. "I can pick some up when I get the aspirin."
"No, no way," he said firmly. "I may not like having to deal with her, but even I know there are some lines you just do not cross and slipping drugs to a kid in order to knock them out so you can party? Yeah, fuck that. With my luck she'll OD or something and then we'll have to dig a hole and make up a story about how she ran off and joined the circus."
"Fine," Ollie pouted. "You can try feeding her warm milk and cookies or some shit, see if that works."
"Fine," Tommy threw back. "Come on; you get the brownie mix, meanwhile I'm getting some party supplies and snacks."
"Sounds like a plan, my man. Tommy is the man with the plan."
"Fuck you."
"Not unless you woo me first. A girl's got to have some standards."
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"Are you having a party?" Felicity asked as she wandered into the kitchen.
"Yeah, a big party," Ollie snickered, still buzzed from the joint he smoked before the housekeeper left. Now he was busy making a second huge pan of hash brownies while he came down from his high.
"Can I help? I'm a good cook; I even help out in the cafeteria sometimes."
Tommy glanced over at the mousy haired little girl as she peered at him over the counter, her big blue eyes exaggerated by the coke bottle lenses she wore. "No. Go away," he told her as he emptied various bags of chips into different bowls along with salsa and dip.
"Can I come?" She asked hopefully, ignoring his harsh tone.
"It's not a kid kind of party," Tommy told her as he grabbed the two huge bags of plain M&M's and poured them into a bowl as well.
She looked at the bags of groceries filled with various kinds of junk food ranging from Twizzlers and Cheetos to several different kinds of sugary sodas and Red Bull, "Sort of looks like a kid's party to me."
"Well it isn't," he said abruptly then turned to Ollie, "What time did you tell everybody to come over?"
He glanced at the clock, "They should be here in about an hour, hour and a half."
"Okay kid, bed time," Tommy told her.
Felicity narrowed her eyes at him and scowled, "But it's not even seven o'clock and we haven't had dinner yet."
He looked at her askance, "Didn't Mrs. McGregor feed you?"
"No," she said roundly and pointed to the deep pan of chicken and spinach casserole on the counter, "She told you before she left that you were supposed to put that in the oven but your friend decided to make brownies instead, remember?"
"Right," he said with a grimace then sighed, "Hey Ollie, I'm gonna call for pizza; what do you want?"
"The usual," he said absently as he began cutting up the still warm brownies and putting them on a cooling rack.
"Why can't we just have what Mrs. McGregor made?" She asked crestfallen. "She made that special because I told her it was my favorite."
She is so weird, Tommy thought. What kind of kid turns down pizza and asks for chicken spinach casserole instead? "Because I'm not waiting around for that crap to cook when we can have a pizza delivered in thirty minutes or less, so just deal with it."
"Fine," she conceded. "Can I have chicken and spinach on my pizza then? With the white sauce?"
"No," he snorted. "You can eat pepperoni or plain cheese or something like a normal kid instead of a freak." At the expression of hurt on her face he found himself easing up slightly, "Fine, I'll order you some Fettuccini Alfredo instead."
"With broccoli?" She asked perking up slightly.
"You are so weird," he muttered. "But after we eat you're going to your room and staying there. Go watch TV or something, I don't care, but you don't come downstairs," he warned.
"Why can't I come to the party?" She asked.
"I told you why," he said with a note of aggravation. "Keep it up and I'll make you go to bed without dinner altogether."
"Okay," she said in a slightly muted tone.
He reached into his back pocket and gritted his teeth, "Great! I left my phone in the pool house." He looked over to Ollie, "Can you watch the orph—" He stopped himself, "Felicity while I get my phone?"
"Sure," he said with a shrug. "Hey, while you're out there you might want to call McKenna and see if she can get Laurel to come over. Or better yet, you can sack up and call her yourself."
"Hey, that's not a bad idea," he mused.
"What does 'sack up' mean?" Felicity asked with a frown as she climbed up on a barstool to watch Ollie as he poured another box of brownie mix into the stand mixer on the counter.
"It means grow a pair of—"
"Hey!" He said, cutting off Ollie at the pass.
"C'mon man," he said, tossing him a slightly stoned grin. "Even Thea knows what that is and she's five."
"Yeah, well, she's your little sister so she had to grow up fast," Tommy retorted. "The last thing I need to hear from my old man is how I corrupted the one kid he actually likes."
"He likes you," Felicity said softly. "He writes about you in his letters all the time."
"Letters?" Tommy repeated incredulously.
"Yeah," she nodded. "He writes me all the time. He says it's more special than just calling. He even bought me a calligraphy set; want to see? I can show you. I'm actually getting pretty good at it."
"See what I mean?" He said turning to his friend with a grim expression.
"That's just weird," Ollie agreed.
"It's not weird," she said in a hurt tone. "Malcolm says that every young lady should learn to do elegant things like play the piano and use good penmanship. He even said that our—" she bit her lip and looked guiltily at Tommy for a second before dropping her gaze and fingering the locket under her simple white blouse, "He said that Tommy's mom knew how to do all of that stuff when she was my age."
Tommy felt himself do a slow burn, quickly eradicating the last vestiges of the contact high he got from hanging out with Ollie in the pool house earlier. "I'm going to go call Laurel. Stay in here and do what Ollie tells you to, understand?" He said then turned on his heel and left before he said something to make the little freak cry again.
The other day after Malcolm gave her his mom's locket they had gotten into it in front of her. Harsh words were spoken on both sides ending with him saying some rather unkind things about the fact that Felicity wasn't his real kid, just some crack orphan he decided to take on as a hobby. It ended with Felicity running out of the room in tears and his dad shoving him against the wall, angrier than he'd ever seen him before, and that was saying a lot. He made him go upstairs to apologize to her only to have the kid apologize to him instead and hand him back the locket. Then she said she'd go downstairs and ask Malcolm to send her back to school if he didn't want her there. When he pointed out how stupid that was since the school was already out for summer break, she said she was thinking of going to computer camp and thought that maybe the headmistress would let her stay over for a couple of weeks until it started. She even said she was used to it since last year, when Malcolm was out of the country and he went skiing with the Queen's over in Big Bear; she stayed at the school and did extra coursework instead.
That made the knife twist in his gut and then she had to go and add to it by smiling and pointing out that it was okay because it meant she could get a head start on the new semester and, besides, she was Jewish so Christmas wasn't really that big of a deal to her.
After that he couldn't even look her in the eye so he told her to keep the locket and that it was okay if she stayed. That is until Malcolm decided to 'let the punishment fit the crime' and decided to put him on babysitting duty so they could 'bond'.
Shaking off his foul mood, he found his phone and, after he called and ordered a ton of pizzas, he called Laurel.
It took a few minutes of stumbling and awkward speech but, before long, they were actually having a pretty interesting conversation. He invited her over but she opted out. She did say however, that she was definitely planning on going to Brandon's that weekend and maybe they'd see each other then. It wasn't a 'date' date, more of an 'I'll be there and so will you' kind of thing, but it was close enough as far as he was concerned. By the time he got off the phone he realized that he'd been talking for almost an hour and not only would people be arriving soon, but the pizzas he ordered had been delivered and had probably already gone cold.
At that moment however, he couldn't have cared less. Even if all there was left was some congealed cheese stuck to the cardboard, nothing could bring him down now that he knew he was one step closer to bagging his dream girl.
"Tommy! Get in here quick! Help!"
He stepped into house through the back door, mouth already open to crow over this auspicious change of events when he heard Ollie calling out to him in an almost frantic tone.
He rushed into the kitchen to see Felicity clutching at her throat and gasping as she turned red and began to sway slightly. Ollie was freaking out, practically in tears, his eyes locked on hers, "Tommy! Tommy, help!"
"Is she choking?" He asked reaching for her and patting her on the back.
She was breathing in harsh pants and in a cold sweat, while Ollie's pupils were blown from the pot brownies and panic, "No! I don't know!" He said, running both his hands through his hair frantically.
"Tommy…" Felicity gasped, "I don't…feel good. My lips…feel numb…and I think…going to…vomit."
Tommy, confused and terrified, looked around, trying to figure out what the hell had happened. He'd only been gone—
And that's when he saw it. Lying on the plate next to Felicity's half eaten pasta, was a brownie.
"Motherfucker!" He shouted, curling up his fist and laying Ollie out with one punch. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" He bellowed in the fallen man's face as he gazed up at him in shock, "You fed her a hash brownie? She's fucking twelve, you asshole! How'd you like if I did something like that to Thea?"
"Whoa!" Ollie said from the floor, the force of the hit along with the shock making him go from stoned to stone cold sober in an instant, "I did *not* feed her one of the brownies I made for the party! That was a batch of plain ones I made in case Laurel decided to show!"
"Then what the hell did you do to her?" He yelled.
"I didn't do anything, I swear!"
Felicity stumbled off the chair and fell to her knees then began to stagger to her feet.
"Whoa," he said grabbing her.
"E-epi—" was all she got out.
Tommy looked over at the brownie again, his eyes going wide, "Oh shit! Did you put nuts in the brownies?"
"Yeah, but Laurel's not allergic to nuts," he said blankly, scrambling to his feet and still rubbing his rapidly swelling jaw.
"But Felicity is, dumb ass!" He shot back.
"You didn't tell me that!" Ollie returned angrily.
"I—I forgot!" His heart clenched in fear, "What do we do? Do we call an ambulance?"
"I don't know!" The other man said swallowing. "Hang on!" He said then rushed out of the kitchen.
"Epi-" Felicity took in a wheezing breath, "Epi…Epi-pen."
"Where?" Tommy asked her.
She pointed to the cupboard near the sink where their housekeeper always stored Felicity's special 'nut-free' snacks. He snatched one of the boxes containing the EpiPen Jr's and looked at it in wide-eyed confusion, "How—what do I-?"
Felicity pulled up the hem of her tartan plaid skirt and pointed to her thigh wordlessly. Without even stopping to think about it, he ripped open the box, allowed the needle to hover over her outer thigh for just a split second, before plunging it in, causing her to cry out and whimper slightly.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said over and over as tears of fear and pain rolled down her bright red cheeks. "Now what? Do I do it again?"
She shook her head, "Not—yet…" She began to rub her thigh and he remembered dimly the instructions their housekeeper had given him a while back on what to do if she ever had a reaction.
Pushing her hands out of the way, he began to massage the injection site.
"Hey, I got the—what are you doing?" Ollie said looking at him askance, a bright pink box held in one hand as he stood next to them.
"What is that?" He said, nodding to the box and ignoring the question.
"Benadryl."
"I told you *not* to buy the Benadryl!" He said sharply.
"It's kid's Benadryl," he said defensively, "See?" He said, pointing to the box, "Bubblegum favor. Besides, aren't you glad I bought it now?"
"Yeah, okay," he said with a tremor in his voice. "Felicity, can you take Benadryl with the Epi shot?"
She nodded, "Last…time I had a reaction, the…school nurse gave me some," she said, still slightly breathless but he could tell she was already improving.
"Okay, give her some," Tommy told him, still massaging her thigh.
"Hang on, I'm reading the damn box!" He snapped. "Why do they have to make the goddamn print so tiny?"
Tommy snatched the glasses off of Felicity's face, ignoring her noise of protest as he did so, and shoved them at him, "Here!"
"I don't-!" Ollie began but then looked through the lenses at the dosing indications, "Oh, okay, that helped." He tore open the box and filled the tiny cup full of a viscous pink fluid. "Here."
Felicity took it from him and drank it down, pulling a face as she did so and shuddering in distaste, "Sure doesn't taste like gum." She gasped out but her breath was no longer wheezing and he began to relax a little.
"Okay, we should take her to the hospital now just to be safe," Tommy said, his heart still racing slightly.
"No!" Felicity said quickly, placing her hand on his arm as he reached for his phone.
"Felicity-!"
"No," she said, shaking her head as her cheeks began to go from bright red to dark pink. "You'll get in trouble. Besides, I feel better now, honest."
Tommy started to object but Ollie stopped him, "She's right, man. If your dad finds out, he's going to go ballistic."
"He'll be even more pissed if she dies," he scowled.
"I won't die," she promised, her eyelids beginning to droop slightly.
He took in a shuddering breath and picked her up. She hardly weighed anything, maybe seventy pounds, if that, as she was small for her age. The first time he met Felicity he thought she was much younger than she was until Mrs. McGregor told him in confidence that the 'puir wee moppet,' as she referred to her, had been born severely premature but that she'd catch up eventually. Even so, she was still on the small end of normal so he figured her mother must have been petite as well; not that he'd ever met her. Supposedly the woman was still alive somewhere but, as far as he knew, she'd never so much as visited the kid either here or at the elite private boarding school Malcolm sent her to in Gotham.
She immediately threaded her arms around him and buried her tiny face into his neck which was now sticky with panic sweat. Tommy unconsciously rubbed his hand up and down her back in a soothing gesture, the other supporting her in his arms as he turned to his buddy who was still dazed and looking more than a little scared shitless himself. "I'm going to go put her to bed. Can you call everybody and tell them the party's off?"
Ollie glanced at the clock and started to say something then swallowed, "Yeah, sure; are we still taking her to the hospital or what?"
"I don't know," he said, feeling torn. Felicity burrowed herself deeper into his chest and he wrapped his arms around her a little tighter, "Not…not yet," he decided at last. "I'll watch her and if she looks like she needs to go, we'll take her."
"Tommy, I'm sleepy," she mumbled against him.
"I know, sunshine," he said back quietly using his dad's nickname for her and causing her to make a happy noise as she began to drift into a light doze. He looked at Ollie and the mess that surrounded them, "Can you handle getting rid of the-?" He lifted his chin and nodded at the trays and trays of hash brownies. "Just in case. If we do have to call an ambulance, I don't want anyone finding them."
"Yeah sure," he said ruefully.
"Thanks," he said before exiting the kitchen and taking her upstairs to her room.
Her room was another point of contention between him and his dad. Before, when Felicity was just some kid he never really saw, he didn't care about her or what his dad did as far as she was concerned. That is until Malcolm started bringing her home whenever he would join the Queen's on their family vacations until, one day, he came home to find out that he had turned the empty room across from his into 'her' room. He'd even had it professionally decorated.
The entire room looked like something out of a magazine. The walls were painted with bright concentric circles in purple, lime green, deep pink, burgundy, and blue on a pale lavender background that extended throughout the room including the gabled ceiling and carpet. There was also an accent wall done in a darker shade of lavender with a huge mural of a flower silhouette and a funky looking chandelier hung from the ceiling like a weirdly shaped flower. Her queen sized bed sat low to the ground on a brightly upholstered striped base that matched her bedding and made the already large room look even bigger.
Between all that and the large stuffed animals that cluttered the various surfaces, it looked like every tween-age girl's fantasy bedroom and, frankly, it was a hell of a lot nicer than his. She even had a better view of the grounds from her large floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the garden and opened to the third floor balcony. He even got her a huge flat screen to go on the accent wall next to her bed and a state of the art computer was sitting out on the desk that was tucked into the corner.
The last person to decorate *his* bedroom was himself and all that involved was tacking a couple of centerfolds on the wall which were both promptly removed and tossed, most likely by the ubiquitous Mrs. McGregor. In fact, he was sure of it. For two weeks afterwards, every time she'd look at him, she'd suck on her front teeth in a hissing sound and make the sign of the cross as she muttered, "Och! Ah'm pure scunnurt o'er tha boy. Saint's preserve us!"
He put her down on her bed and she mumbled, "I need my nightie."
"Right," he said, turning to the dresser and grabbing a white cotton and lace gown and handing it to her.
She got shakily to her feet and walked into the bathroom to change leaving him to stand helplessly outside the door. Time seemed to slow as he watched the clock, his heart thudding out of his chest as the seconds ticked by.
Maybe I should have gone in with her? He thought after he could no longer hear the water running or her feet as they slapped lightly against the tiles. She might have been in there for all of five minutes but it felt like hours given his already strained state. Finally, unable to stand it anymore, he reached for the door to the bathroom only to have her stumble out sleepily instead. She swayed on her feet as he led her to the bed then pulled down her duvet so she could fall face first onto the soft mattress with an almost comical 'thump'. He straightened her in the bed and tucked the covers around her, "Are you sure you're okay? Do you want some water or something?"
She shook her head without opening her eyes, "Tommy?" She slurred.
"Yeah?"
"Can you stay with me?" She asked him in a faraway tone. "I don't want to be by myself."
"Okay," he said, kicking off his shoes and lying down in the bed beside her without thinking twice about it. To tell the truth, he was kind of glad she asked because as soon as he did she curled up beside him to lay her head on his chest. He could feel her breathing even out as her heart thudded reassuringly against his side. He wrapped his arm around her then pulled her a little closer, his own heart rate slowing to match hers.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly.
"Sorry for what?" He asked, switching off the bedside lamp to darken the room.
"I ruined your party," she whispered.
"It's okay," he told her with a sigh. Maybe it's just as well Laurel didn't come after all. Her seeing him and Oliver nearly getting his…whatever Felicity was, killed would have definitely doomed whatever chance he had of ever being with her.
"You should go have fun. I'll be okay," she yawned.
"Shut up," he said, not unkindly. "Besides, I'm tired and your bed is softer than mine anyway."
She wrinkled her nose, "Plus, your room smells kind of funny; like hamster food and feet."
He frowned, bending his head to look down at her, "When were you in my room?"
She cracked her eyes open, "Um, never?"
"Go to sleep," he said gruffly.
"Night night, Tommy."
"'Night," he mumbled back, shutting his eyes as well.
A while later the door to Felicity's room opened and Tommy opened his eyes slowly, not even realizing he'd drifted asleep.
"Hey, is she okay?" Ollie asked quietly from the doorway, holding up her glasses awkwardly.
He nodded to the dresser and watched as Ollie put them down next to the cut crystal music box Malcolm gave her. "Yeah," he said in a near whisper. "I think so but I'll probably stay with her just in case."
"Do you need me to stay, too? I can call my mom-?"
"No man, it's cool. I think I got it."
He nodded and entered the room fully, "Look bro, I'm really sorry…"
"It's okay, you didn't know," Tommy assured him. "It was my fault for not telling you about the nut thing in the first place. And, since we're apologizing, I'm sorry for punching you like that. That was way the fu-" he glanced at the sleeping girl and cleared his throat, "It was over the line and I'm sorry."
"No, that's okay," he told him. "I mean, you were right; if someone did what you thought I did to my little sister, I would have laid them out, too. This whole thing is my fault. I should have never been baking those kinds of brownies in front of your—" he frowned, looking at her uncertainly, "uh, *her* like that. I definitely shouldn't have been getting buzzed right in front of her."
"Yeah, well, that was kind of both our faults," he admitted. "And I shouldn't have shuffled her off on you while I snuck off to call Laurel like that."
"How'd that go anyway?" He asked, ambling into the room further to sit at the end of the bed.
"Pretty good, I think," he said, adjusting Felicity against him slightly so he could lie propped up against the pillows as they talked. "She said she'll be at Brandon's so I'll see her there."
"Excellent," he grinned and nodded. His eyes then swept through the darkened room, "Damn, her room really is nicer than yours."
"I know, right?"
"Is that a flat screen?" He asked, pointing to the far wall.
"Yeah," he said with a grimace. "She doesn't even watch it either. The only time she ever watches TV is with my dad and then all she watches is old musicals and sci-fi movies."
"That's big. What is that thing; eighty inches? Think she'd let us watch the game in here sometime?" He asked hopefully.
"If you want to watch the game I've got a TV in my room, too, you know," he said sarcastically.
"Yeah, but your room stinks of old bong water and the sweat socks you've been using as your girlfriend ever since Caroline dumped you," he said with a note of disgust. "How come the maids don't clean up in there anymore?"
"Mrs. McGregor found my porn stash and said that she won't let any of the maids back in there until I get the 'devil's work' out from under my bed," he said mournfully then glanced at Felicity. "Fine," he said with a sigh, "I'll ask her about the game thing tomorrow."
"Cool," he said getting up off the bed. "Oh, and by the way, I put up all the food and loaded the dishwasher, plus I took the regular brownies she ate out to the trash just in case. I didn't know how this allergy thing worked and I didn't want to just leave them out in the open like that."
"You cleaned the kitchen?" Tommy asked incredulously.
"What can I say; I was highly motivated," he shrugged. "I figured that if we did have to call an ambulance that the cops would come and then, well…"
"Good thinking," he agreed. "And thanks."
"No problem. Hey, mind if I borrow your car? We left mine back at school. I figured I'd stop by early and pick you up."
"Yeah," he nodded. "See you in the morning, man."
"Night, bro," he said as he made his way to the door.
"Night," he said. As soon as the door shut, Tommy adjusted the pillows and rolled onto his side, bringing the little girl closer to his chest, then slept.
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The next morning he got a ten minute lecture from Mrs. McGregor on the perils of feeding Felicity junk food along with a warm pat on the cheek for cleaning up afterwards and showing how responsible he could be if he just put his mind to it.
He didn't argue, especially when he came home to find his room clean and free of bong water stink and crusty sweat socks. Best of all, Felicity never said a word.
After that he never referred to her as 'the orphan' again, he just called her 'sunshine'. When his dad came home and asked why, he just shrugged and said it suited her.