"I'm fucked, Thomas," were Oliver's greeting words to his best friend as the other man appeared in front of him.
Tommy plopped down on a chair, hands behind his head as he stretched, extending his shirtless torso. "Good morning to you too, buddy." He paused in his tracks. "Did she give you a syph dick?" he groaned, pointing at a pair of pink heels laid discarded against the door, shuddering lightly. "Man. That sucks."
Oliver let out a piercing growl. "I don't have an STD," he said indignantly. "You might but I certainly don't but at this point, I'd rather have one of those then-"
This piped Tommy's attention. "What happened?" he demanded.
"Remember our little excursion to MIT?"
"Hell yeah," a dreamy look graced Tommy's face as he recalled their trip to Boston. "Good times." He nodded. "Good times."
"Well, turns out, I'm getting more than I bargained for," said Oliver, his hands clenching into fists as he propped himself up on the bar counter with his elbows. "Way more than I ever wanted."
"Ah the MIT blonde's in town?" winked Tommy, as his lips broke out into a wicked grin. Oliver hadn't been able to stop talking about his encounter with her for ages. Must have been a good lay, he concluded. "What was that little hell cat's name? Felicia, eh?"
"It was Felicity," corrected Oliver, "and yes, she's in town and no, this doesn't mean she wants to hook up-"
Tommy's face fell.
"She's pregnant," continued Oliver, watching as Tommy's eyes widened in unmistakable horror. The other man straightened up instantly and almost fell off his chair. "It's mine."
"What the hell?!" he let out a deafening shout. "You've got to be kidding me." This wasn't the kind of breaking news he'd been expecting on a random Monday morning.
He wasn't even fully awake and functional yet.
"I wish." Oliver's face darkened considerably as he considered whether it was worth breaking his mother's favourite vase to release some of his pent up tension.
"No, it isn't worth it," interjected Tommy, breaking his brother of all intents and purposes out of his thoughts. "Moira's gonna have a coronary and you know that won't be pretty. But hey, this might lessen the blow of finding out that her eighteen year old son's going to be a daddy."
Oliver let out another groan. He hadn't even imagined how his parents would react...This was it. His father was finally going to cut him off, take his trust fund and disown him. He was done for. Completely done for.
"What're you gonna do?" Tommy's nose wrinkled. "Is she going to keep it?"
"She doesn't believe in abortion," answered Oliver, pinching the bridge of his nose as he contemplated all his miserable options, "or adoption for that matter."
"So."
"So."
"What does she want you to do?" Tommy's voice trailed off.
"I don't know!" exclaimed Oliver in frustration. "She gave me her number and told me to call her once I get my head cleared up and in the game and God, she's going to be in town till Saturday so that's when I have to make up my fucking mind, whatever that means."
To say that he was utterly confused would be an understatement, to say the least.
"Laurel would know."
No.
Noo.
NO.
That didn't sound like a reasonable option, considering everything. That woman had anger issues and a temper and teenage pregnancy would surely set her off in a bad mood.
And every knew that would be disastrous.
Completely disastrous and...possibly dangerous (for Oliver, that is).
Laurel would want to castrate him. (It wouldn't be the first time, but still-)
A strangled cry exited Oliver as he jumped to his feet. "You aren't telling her!" he warned.
Tommy thought it over. carefully "What the fuck are we supposed to do then?" he asked. "Neither of us know how to deal with...these things, do we?" He reached for the pack of smokes that lay unforgotten on the coffee table. Lighting one up, he lifted it to his lips and took a slow drag. Smoking at 9 AM wasn't his thing but this called for it. He needed it. It called out to him. "Trust me when I say she's the only one who can help." He knew he was right, whether Oliver liked it or not.
They needed Laurel Lance and they needed her now.
"I don't need her self righteous bullshit right now!"
"Oh buddy," Tommy rolled his eyes. "You do. We all do." And that was the moment when he decided to speed dial his girlfriend, demanding for her to leave her books and make a run to the Queens' estate, and namely to Oliver's suite, because there a situation that required to be dealt with immediately and no, she couldn't make a stop and get Starbucks. There wasn't anytime for that, was there? Not when there were much more pressing matters at hand, decided Tommy.
If she needed coffee, he'd make some for her.
He liked to think of himself as a considerate boyfriend (even though Laurel didn't quite agree with that all the time. Eh, he had his flaws but she loved him anyway. So. That didn't matter)
This constituted as a crisis situation, didn't it? Of course it did, thought Tommy. 'Your best friend doesn't usually get a major shock every day, does he?'
Just then his phone beeped, only to display a text from said girlfriend:
tell ollie i'm on my way and last night's red haired tramp better be up and out of his bed before i get there.
-Laurel xx
"Hurricane Laurel's on it's way?" asked Oliver miserably as he caught sight of the phone screen.
*o*o*
Well, what do ya think? ;)