Safe

AU: Oliver is in witness protection. Clark is the FBI Agent.

Oliver Queen walked down the street with a careful eye. He knew that this was a bad part of town and he shouldn't be there. But, the bars down here were the best. They served you without a care in the world, didn't try to talk to you. Plus, the chances of a bar fight were almost nil, everyone was really too plastered to do anything.

Walking into the bar with a smile, he took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer. His brown eyes scanned the crowd, but nothing really snapped up his attention. Nodding his thanks at the bartender, he tilted his head back to drain the beer. He almost coughed it back up as a hand clasped his shoulder and slid down his back. He spun around and found a gray-haired man dressed in a suit. "What's a beauty like you doing in a bar like this." A slimy voice accompanied the man.

"Trying to get away from creeps in rich suits." Oliver said, his tone biting. He took another gulp of his beer. A hand caressed his hip and Oliver slammed the beer down.

"Well, that's too bad. I was trying to find a young blonde with brown eyes." The same slimy voice whispered in his ear. "And…You seem to fit the bill pretty nicely."

"Listen, man. I don't know what you've been drinking to think that I was reciprocating your line. But, I wasn't so if you could go away. That'd be great." Oliver snapped, his tone harsh.

"Your loss, gorgeous." The creep stated and then walked away with a leering look. Oliver's skin crawled and he shivered. He got up and walked to the bathroom. Splashing his face, he washed his hands and stepped out. The blonde sat back down and took anther gulp of his beer. Taking another gulp he frowned and shook his head. His head started to hurt and his vision was a bit blurry. Stumbling off his seat he headed for the exit., maybe fresh air would clear his head.

Walking out, he made a step towards his car. But, then an arm yanked around his stomach and he was momentarily breathless. "Hey, Blondie. Knew you'd come around eventually." a familiar slimy voice filled his ear.

"Get away from me, creep." He tried to push away, but everything felt like Jell-o. He was dragged into an alley. He was roughly pressed against a wall and a pair of rough lips pressed against her and an insistent tongue pressed his mouth open. It pulled away and his head slammed against the wall. His opened his eyes blearily and found thick hands trying to rip his shirt open.

"FBI, Freeze." A voice dictated, suddenly a chill hit him and cold metal pressed against his bare stomach. "Come on, Mitchells. Let him go." He saw a tall, dark haired man stanced at the head of the alley, holding a gun at arms length.

"But, Officer. We haven't played yet. You know, Just give me ten more minutes with him, then he's all yours." Oliver groaned at the hot breath on his ear. A shot rang out and a pain hit his side. He cried out as he was thrust forward. He sunk into a pair of strong arms and his last conscious view was of a pair of green eyes and a comforting voice telling him he would be okay.

Oliver Queen woke with a warm feeling about him. He could feel the softness of a blanket wrapped around him and the press of a soft, cool pillow beneath his cheek. The low hum of a fan filled the room. Oliver sat up slowly and blinked his eyes. Criss-crossing his legs, he yawned. He rubbed his eyes and took in his surroundings, they were all unfamiliar.

"Where the hell am I ?" Oliver asked, aloud. He heard voices and shook off the groggy feeling from just waking up. Walking towards the main room, he saw a familiar looking brunette standing in the kitchen. The tall man closed his phone and put it back in his pocket. He turned around to see Oliver standing there.

Clark Kent took in his new charge. The blonde, Oliver Queen, was standing there in a pair of black gym shorts and the thin sheet wrapped loosely around his shoulders. There was a hospital bracelet on his right wrist. His skin looked faded but still had a healthy glow to it. His eyes were confused and a bit scared.

"You're awake, that's great." Clark said and watched the blonde wince. "Headache ?" He questioned with a sympathetic smile as the slender blonde nodded. Clark grabbed a box from on top of the fridge and shifted it around and then pulled out a bottle of aspirin and shook out two. He grabbed a bottled water from the fridge and handed them both to Oliver as the blonde took a seat at the table.

Setting the offerings down, he frowned. "I'm going to up front. I have no idea what the hell is going on." Ollie watched the brunette sit down next to him. "You're in witness protection, Mr. Queen." Clark says, his voice serious. He laces his hands together and lets them rest on the table.

Oliver actually starts to actually to laugh. But, it's choked and his breathing gets really fast. He's practically hyperventilating as he stands, "This is real funny guys, real funny. Come on where are the cameras, whose damn idea was this ?" He shouts, panicked desperation in his voice. He turns to Clark, "This is a joke, right ?" His voice was meek and sad.

Clark reaches out a hand to his shoulder, "I'm sorry, really. But, this is no joke. You're now officially in Witness Protection." Watching tears build up in brown eyes, his heart tightened. What was so special about this guy, he shouldn't even care, this was just a charge, a job like everybody else. But, somehow it wasn't.

"No, Seriously. This isn't happening. I'm not in one of those dumb movies or stupid TV shows. I have a life, I have friends, a job." He says, his voice breaking. "I have a cat." He cracks and tears pour out of his eyes.

Clark reaches over and embraces the blonde in his arms. "Shh, it'll be okay. This isn't permanent, just until things are safe. Your friends will still be there when you can leave, your job will probably be too." He feels Oliver burrowing his head into his neck and he reaches a hand to soothingly rub the back of his neck and back in soothing circles. "Shh, I can get your cat for you. That's no problem at all." Clark says, he can feel his shirt growing wet and feels awful as the blonde cries into his neck.

Clark manages to get Oliver calmed down and they're seated on the couch. The blonde is showered and in a pair of gray sweatpants and a white wife-beater. A blanket is wrapped around him, almost swallowing him. A black and white kitten is perched on armrest next to him, asleep. Clark's leaning against the doorway watching his charge absently stroke the soft fur.

He walks into the kitchen and grabs himself a water. Uncapping it and drinking it, he joined the duo on the couch. Slinging an arm around the back of the couch, he sets his bottle down on the table. Clark stiffens a bit as Oliver turns over and leans into him, his head leaning on his shoulder. He keeps a pair of somewhat sad brown eyes on the TV, but Clark makes sure to keep his eyes locked on him the whole time. He tells himself that it's just part of the job. Wrapping an arm around Ollie's back, he tried to convince himself of that.

Oliver felt Clark's arm wrap around him and tighten. For some reason it made him feel safe. Focusing back on the TV, he let himself snuggle closer to Clark. He didn't know what was going to happen tomorrow, a month from now, or two minutes from now. All he knew was that he was alone in witness protection with one Clark Kent to keep him safe. Somehow, the latter made him feel pretty comforted and the sadness in his eyes dissipated as the kitten climbed onto the side of his thigh and mewed loudly as she curled up again and went back to sleep.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.