What?! Cadet Eyes writes an Arrow story?! Holy fandom jump Batman!
I've actually been sitting on this story for a while, but if you're familiar with any of my other work, I am horrible at updating stories, which is why I mainly write one-shots.
Sooooo... yeah... Here you gooooo
There's so much about that night that Tommy Merlyn doesn't remember. But for everything he doesn't, there is a moment of shocking clarity that's just enough for him to piece the night together. He supposes it must be the important bits he remembers. Like the absolute dive of a bar that had more beer guts and balding head than he would care to count, but not the decision to go there.
He remembers this ninth beer of the night, but not the first eight.
He remembered being just shy of being "drunk enough" to act on the advances of the girl hitting on him, but he doesn't remember when he hit "drunk."
And he remembers the uproar of angry yells when a "Breaking News Bulletin" interrupted the sports game that was on, but not what sport it was.
Tommy definitely remembers the pin-drop silence in the bar when a familiar picture popped up on the screen, and the newscaster announced "Oliver Queen is alive."
Most of the night after that is a blur of lights and sounds, all taking a backseat to his head screaming "He's alive!" over and over again. Because, Holy Shit! Oliver was alive! His best friend, partner in crime, damn near brother was alive! The last time Tommy saw him was the night before the Queen's Gambit set sail, when he was trying to convince Oliver that taking Sarah Lance with him would only end in pain, probably of the "Laurel's knee to your balls" variety. Then it's a few days later and his friend is nothing more than a name on a gravestone marking an empty grave, and Tommy is holding a crying Thea, then only twelve years old, and he can't help but think of the Lance family, who's doing the same thing on the opposite side of the city.
He must've lost some time to his one-line monologue that night, because the next thing Tommy remembers is being at the Queen residence, hoping he at least took a cab, because the thought of the distance he would've walked is a tad unbearable. Now he's sitting in Oliver's old room, holding a suddenly seventeen year old Thea, and she's crying, but for all different reasons than last time. She keeps repeating the same thing his head has been screaming at him for the last few hours, and the only words he can seem to say are "I know."
He blames the shock for his sudden lack of eloquence.
He left the Queen manor around 3am after Thea had cried herself to sleep on Oliver's bed, and surprisingly didn't even care about the fact that his very expensive shirt was probably ruined from Thea crying on his shoulder for hours. Again, he blames shock.
The next fourteen hours are even more of a blur than the last five. Tommy knows he doesn't sleep, he's vaguely aware of the impressive number of cups of foreign coffee that he consumed, and he's pretty sure than ten of those hours were spent sitting on his couch and staring at a blank wall.
It's around four that he remembers he said he'd be at the Queen's for dinner, and still in the same clothes he wore to that dive bar the night before, so he stops staring a hole in the wall and makes himself look every bit like the billionaire he is. Raisa let's him in and directs him to exactly where he finds Oliver with his back to the door, staring at an old picture of the Queen men. He throws out some joke about yachts, and Oliver turns, giving him a small, reserved, not nearly as bright as it once was but still there smile that Tommy never realized just how much he missed until just now. No thought is put into the hug that Tommy pulls Oliver into.
And if he ended up teary eyed and close to crying while holding onto his best friend, well, Tommy will just say he doesn't remember.
And it's done!
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~Cadet Eyes