Tommy had a plan for when he saw Oliver again. He was going to open the door and walk into the room and smile and say something lighthearted and not-really funny and Oliver would turn around and then they'd both laugh and maybe hug if it came to that before having the diner he'd (sort of) invited himself over for where he'd defuse the inevitable tension of Oliver having a step-dad from nowhere and things would continue on. Tommy and Oliver might get to be Oliver&Tommy again even. And there would be booze and women and good times had by all. The end.

Expectation was a powerful thing. And so ultimately, Tommy did not foresee the eventuality where this would not happen. And yet that is not what happened.

Tommy took one look at his long lost friend - the brother he hadn't seen in five years. The boy who'd gotten into a fistfight when some brat gave him shit for not having both his parents. The kid who sat next to him in every class from kindergarten through high school. The one who was beside him when they were both still in diapers for chrissake. - and Tommy burst into tears.

He had all of half a second to think how embarrassing that reaction was before he felt arms around him - really strong arms a part of him noted - pulling him close and clutching him tight and there was a shoulder for him to hide his snot into.

Tommy tried for the joke he'd planned, choking on sobs but managing to get out, "Yachts," before another sob choked him and he just straight up couldn't breathe through it all. And really he was blubbering and if Oliver didn't say something soon he was going to- well, he was going to keep crying for one thing. But he'd also be kinda offended.

But then Oliver buried his face into his hair (Stupid 6-1 to his 5-10!) and he can feel tears against the tip of his ear and Oliver just breathes. With anyone else it would have been weird or one-sided. But this was Oliver and he was Tommy and damn but he needed this. Because Oliver was here but Tommy knew - he could feel it in his heart and in the arms around him and in hear it in his brother's silence - that this Oliver was a different Oliver and Tommy desperately needed this new Oliver to belong to him too. Because Tommy wasn't sure he could be Tommy without an Oliver.

The past five years had shattered him. He'd lost his mother young and Oliver had stayed by him throughout. His dad had left and Oliver had stayed. They both made so many stupid decisions - though the time they peed on a cop was pretty funny - all through high school and then college. And Tommy had had that stupid crush and Oliver dating Laurel had been a silent ache that he'd been willing to bear to keep his brother as his brother. And then he was just gone and that ache was nothing compared to the sheer agony of having his brother torn away from him. Tommy would never go so far as to say that Oliver was his other half or anything like that - mostly because that was some shitty Twilight level angst right there and no thank you - but Oliver did make up at minimum 50% of his life. So Tommy might as well admit - at least in his head - that Oliver meant more to him than any other living soul in the world and had since the moment his mother died. They were Oliver&Tommy and that's how it was.

Eventually though Tommy started losing momentum with the sobbing and the crying and actually managed to breathe under all the congested-ness which was a huge relief. Tommy pulled back just far enough to start wiping away his own tears when he felt Oliver's chist shake once silently, almost a convulsion. The brother Tommy had once been seemed to wake up inside him once more and Tommy threw his arms around Oliver as tight as he could. Oliver pulled him closer too.

If he hadn't been holding him, feeling the tears build up in his hair, Tommy doubted he would have noticed either the degree of Oliver's brokenness or the sheer level of control he was using. Old Oliver - if he cried which was rare - was a loud complaining sobbing mess. There was snot and there were hiccups and those shaky inhales that echoed in your chest and the sobs that burst out when you tried to breath in and sounded like a cross between a bellow and a drawn-out cough. The solution usually involved tissues and alcohol and sex with women who didn't bother giving a last name, but that was usually all it took to fix the problem anyway. That was not the case now. Oliver was vulnerable as Tommy held him. And that terrified Tommy. Because they trusted each other with everything - secrets, crushes, the occasional homework assignment, fears, dreams, hopes - but they never shared their vulnerabilities, their weaknesses. Oh they both knew what they were. Tommy knew about Olli's irrational fear of spiders and more rational fear of being forgotten just as Oliver knew Tommy's fear of dying like his mother with his father not caring and perfectly rational hatred for crabs and their creepy movements. But those were things left unsaid and unseen. Known but not present. Secreted away in their hearts of hearts and held so close no one could find them but each other. And yet when Oliver stood there crying into Tommy's hair, he was more vulnerable than Tommy had seen him in his entire life. And he was broken in ways Tommy didn't understand and couldn't begin to know how to fix. And worse was that he was so silent. There wasn't a whisper of sound. Just the shake of his shoulders and the tremble of his hands and the expansion of his breath as he leaned into Tommy, for all that Tommy was a solid three inches shorter and - suddenly - significantly smaller in terms of muscle mass. Tommy's Oliver had been hurt so deeply that Tommy feared he was dead and this man was someone else. But Tommy swallowed that fear down and stroked his friend's back and very consciously did not shush him or indicate in any way that it was time to pull themselves together. Because tears were still streaming down both their faces and while there was only so much a man could take, Tommy couldn't bear the thought of pulling away or of letting Oliver shut himself inside his eyes again.

And then they're both done and spent and panting. They're both still semi-hugging, arms around each other but pulled back enough that their chests are no longer touching, both unwilling to let go completely but reluctant to keep crying like they had been. There was too much raw emotion there and they were both frayed and frazzled and suddenly it felt like one wrong move or breath or word could destroy them.

Somehow Tommy realizes that the only word they've exchanged so far has been "Yachts," and that's pretty shitty so he swallows heavily around the lump in his throat and chokes out, "What did I tell you? Yachts suck."

Oliver snorts reflexively but there's a smile on his face and Tommy smiles because he'd put Olli's smile back on his face and it might not be the same smile but it was something. And Tommy's not sure which of them started first but then they're both laughing hysterically and they might both be crying again but Tommy's eyes are too blurry to be sure. And they're not hugging anymore but Tommy's legs have halfway given out and Oliver steers him so they're both sitting on the edge of his bed laughing and crying. Oliver's got one hand on Tommy's shoulder as though to assure himself that this is real and Tommy's got his opposite hand on that same shoulder, clutching tightly to Oliver's as though if he let go his brother might disappear again.

And then Thea comes. She's just suddenly in the doorway, almost the way things appear in dreams - and that thought worries Tommy for a split second before he dismisses it because dreams are never this good anymore and haven't been since he lost his Olli anyway - and she stands there for a prolonged moment, hesitant and unsure and suddenly almost frail with her hair down and tears on her cheeks tracking mascara as she shakes, one hand on the door frame as though she wants to disappear.

Tommy spares a moment to think how this is tiny, precious, seventeen year old Thea who was twelve when she lost her brother. And Tommy had tried but he couldn't, he just couldn't. Tommy wasn't Oliver, he wasn't the brother she'd lost, he wasn't there enough to help her with her homework, he didn't have enough time to listen to her talk about her day, he wasn't in the house to fumble through the treacherous ground of yes-I-like-that-outfit-no-it-doesn't-make-your-but-look-too-big, he couldn't keep track of which boys he was supposed to be threatening away from her. Above all he couldn't talk with her about Oliver. Most days Tommy couldn't think about Oliver. Not if he wanted to get up in the mornings. Not if he wanted to breathe without a rock in his heart. Not if he wanted to be able to fake a smile despite the constant weighty ache in his bones that told him that this was wrong and nothing would ever be right again. Tommy couldn't even begin to cope with his own problems over losing Oliver much less help out Ollie's kid-sister.

But he'd tried. And somehow he was pretty sure he'd made it worse. Tommy was not an example to look up to in any respect. He partied too hard and had too much admittedly meaningless sex and smoked weed and he'd gotten worse when Oliver disappeared from him. And Thea had looked at him and looked up to him and Thea had surpassed him with the drugs and the alcohol. Tommy knew he'd failed her horribly, failed Oliver too in the process. Failed to protect her, to be there for her, to save her, to help her.

But that was a problem for another day.

Tommy jerked his head to indicate that Thea should get over there just ad Oliver held out his remaining arm to his sister. That was all it took for her to cross the room and throw herself at him, knocking her brother down onto the bed with their legs dangling over the edge. Oliver had pulled his baby sister into his lap and Tommy should have felt excluded at that point but he didn't because this was his Oliver and Oliver's Thea and they'd shared everything as kids anyway so why not a sister? Tommy had been a pretty shitty brother so far despite himself but with Oliver he could do better, they could do better, all of them. And maybe things would be right again. Even a little. So Tommy lay down next to the two blood siblings and put an arm over Thea's back as Thea sprawled across Olli's chest and hid her face in the crook of his neck as she sobbed.

And the three cried and laughed and very few words were choked out between the three before the lot of them just sort of collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep holding each other.

This had not been Tommy's plan for Oliver's homecoming. There was supposed to be more alcohol involved, the woman was supposed to have sex involved and the three-people-in-a-bed thing was supposed to be a lot more sexy and something Laurel would call him a pig for thinking and definitely not happening with his siblings in all but blood. But Tommy couldn't complain. This was okay too.

There would still be a damn party though or he couldn't call himself Tommy Merlyn, but this was okay too. The party would wait.

Whoa my shit I have no idea where this came from but inspiration struck an now it's midnight and I haven't done my homework yet but I give you this. Should I continue? Leave it as is? If no one requests more I probably won't touch it. I may have sorta cried writing it btw. Just so you know.