A/N: I've long stopped questioning the things my brain comes up with. So here's some Arrow. Two hours worth of ramble. Enjoy.
Sentimentality:
Living in Starling City, Oliver had always seen relationships as flexible. They were games to him, not worth pursuing once the enjoyment started wearing off. Everyone saw him as a playboy, and he was. He was young and rich and had no responsibilities, why shouldn't he have fun? The women of Starling might have disagreed with his ways, but they never complained when it was them on his arm or in his bed.
That was before the incident on the Queen's Gambit, and before he was forced to bear witness as his own father committed suicide right in front of him. Those sorts of things left large, gaping wounds, scars on a person's psyche that would never fade away. When Oliver Queen washed up on the shores of Liànyù he was already a different person, and time would only solidify, not negate those changes.
Liànyù was a dangerous place, and Oliver was ill-equipped to deal with it. First there was Yao Fei, who saved him and then betrayed him and saved him and betrayed him until it was all a confusing blur and he didn't know what to believe. Then there was Slade, the crude, uncaring ASIS man who gave him shelter and aided his attempts to get away from the Island. When Shado joined their little group of survivors and with Yao Fei gone forever, Oliver found himself clinging to them.
In a place full of uncertainties he needed something to keep him stable, steady, sane, and they were it.
Slade was always gruff, Oliver realised over time, but you could tell he was worried or embarrassed because the way he spoke, acted, was colder than usual, as though he were trying to detach himself from the situation. He didn't like the fact that he had come to care about what happened to Oliver and Shado. It was an endearing trait, one that Oliver could understand, when he really took a moment to think about it. Working for an organisation like the ASIS it was probably for his best interests not to have attachments to other people. And Slade was a logical man – he knew the dangers of Liànyù a hundred times better than Oliver did, and was likely convinced that there was little chance of all three of them making it out alive. His realism was depressing, and it cut, but it was also oddly reassuring.
If the people of Starling could see him now… Oliver knew they wouldn't know how to react.
Shado was kinder than Slade, more open, but she was still strict. Not that she had much to be strict about; Oliver had stopped purposely messing about sometime about ten minutes after washing ashore. When people keep trying to kill you even a rich playboy can figure out when to play it safe and take orders. She taught him how to shoot, and taught both Oliver and Slade about natural medicines. When she and Slade butted heads Oliver would be torn between the instinctual reaction of running and hiding – they were both fiercely stubborn and unafraid to show it – and wishing he had some popcorn so he could sit and watch and enjoy the show.
They were the only people left to him, and Oliver had no intention of letting them go.
Sometimes he felt like Slade was right to be wary of personal attachments. They kept him on his toes, sure, but they also kept him awake at night, needlessly watching over them, watching as they slept and took turns with watch – because Oliver wasn't the only paranoid one living in their airplane skeleton. Knowing they were okay became a sort of obsession, one he worked hard to hide from them.
It hardly worked. Shado and Slade were both very observant people, and noticed something was off with Oliver almost immediately, but as long as it didn't put them in danger they weren't overly concerned about it.
That is, they weren't concerned about it until Oliver's erratic behaviour ended up with him making himself into a human shield during skirmishes and taking blows meant for the others.
"What the fuck was that kid?" Slade had reprimanded Oliver back at the plane, holding him still while Shado tended to his injuries. Shado had hummed in agreement, being firmer than necessary with Oliver's treatment, making sure he knew she wasn't impressed.
Oliver had glanced between the two of them, both hovering over him, both worried in their own ways, and his heart had ached for them. While Shado bandaged his leg Oliver had shifted, placing one hand on Shado's arm and the other on Slade's cheek, overwhelmed with how strongly he felt towards the two.
"Please, just, don't die on me, okay?" Oliver had begged quietly, not looking directly at either of them, partly ashamed of how needy he sounded, how desperate, and partly afraid of their reactions.
Shado had tied off his bandage with a harsh tug, not sparing him a glance. Slade was his usual gruff self, "Same to you kid, wouldn't want all of this effort we've put into keeping you alive to go to waste now would we?" Afterwards Shado had simply stared at him, as though trying to drill it into his mind – possibly through fear – both how stupid she thought he was for saying something like that, and how much she agreed with it.
It was an odd moment, out of the blue and full of hidden meanings and depths of emotions that none of them were willing to discuss, but it changed their dynamic completely.
They spent more time together after Oliver's outburst. Generally they were all together anyway, but now they were more mindful and acknowledging of each other's presences, sometimes sitting together in silence while Slade planned something or other and Shado sorted out their make-shift medical supplies. Oliver would sit between them in silence, watching.
When Shado took him for shooting practise, Slade would join them, watching, occasionally making a snide remark about Oliver's aim, but there were always hidden compliments or suggestions for how to improve hidden amongst the biting words. It was as though Oliver had given them permission to be emotional, given them a reason to start to try and get to know each other.
No one mentioned it when they started sleeping closer together than strictly necessary; it was a natural progression, something that had been decided on unanimously and silently. They didn't discuss the situation, not ever, because not only did they not know what it was, acknowledging it would make things awkward, tense. Talking about it would suggest obligations, promises they didn't believe for a moment that they would actually be able to keep. So as the three became closer, despite it somewhat easing the soul-deep ache that seemed to haunt Oliver at all times, it hyped up his paranoia, because it was true; what guarantee did any of them have that they would even survive tomorrow?
The first time Oliver kissed Slade it was impulsive, driven by fear.
They were in a 'safe' spot, hiding from the projectile fire, and Slade was barely conscious, half of his face horribly burned by the blast from one of the shells. It was Oliver's fault. Though he knew Slade would scoff if he could, he couldn't stop the tears that welled up in his eyes from falling, landing on Slade's shoulder as he lay with his head cradled in Oliver's lap.
There was a moment, when Slade closed his eyes, where Oliver suddenly feared he was going to lose him, then and there. Careful of the burns, Oliver leaned forward, gingerly pressing his lips against the Australian's, the action begging Slade to be okay, to recover, to stay with him. And Slade had kissed back, albeit weakly, before grumbling inaudibly when Oliver pulled back, startling a watery laugh out of him.
Shado had kissed Oliver, consoling him as he watched, pained, over Slade. She knew he was worried, and she was just as worried. Neither wanted to lose the man, and suffering in silence together was better than suffering alone.
When Slade finally woke up Shado had kissed him too, before going out to scout the area, making sure they were still safe and alone. Oliver, mentally exhausted, stretched out on the floor next to the injured man and slept.
When Oliver was kidnapped he ended up with a lot of time in which to think things over.
First and foremost, he was worried about Slade and Shado. His own safety was secondary. Of course, no news was good news, but it killed him inside not to know what was happening. It was a sensation he was unfamiliar with. He knew what it was, but admitting it out loud was different to acknowledging it silently and even acting on it.
Before Liànyù he had had no reasons to fear for anyone – sure, there was crime in Starling City, but it was no big deal. He loved his mother, loved Thea, and cared deeply for Tommy, but he never worried over them the same way he worried now. His father… after everything that had happened he didn't know what he felt about him anymore.
In his heart of hearts he knew that he loved Slade and Shado. He didn't care how or why, or even that he should be at least a little bit surprised that he not only loved two people equally, but that one of them was a man. All he cared about was, if at all possible, getting back to them, and making sure that they were okay.
Seeing Sara on Ivo's ship was a shock, but it didn't affect him as much as he imagined it would have. He was surprised that their circumstances had been so drastically different – and yet somehow the same – after the shipwreck, but mostly he was just shocked that somehow she had managed to survive when he'd been so certain she had drowned. There was none of the affection that had caused him to bring her on the Gambit in the first place, only relief for the sake of her family, should they ever make it back to Starling after everything that had happened.
It was the first time he'd seriously thought about Starling City in a long time. Once the original mercenaries had been dealt with life on Liànyù with Slade and Shado had become just that, life, instead of surviving with intent of escape. Every now and again vague mention of escape would be made by one of the three, but there were never any destinations, simply away from the Island. A fresh start.
That was what Oliver wanted, he realised with startling clarity, even as Ivo dragged him around the Island, intent on the destruction of the very people he was worried about. Oliver wanted the chance to start anew, somewhere fresh, with just Slade, Shado and himself. He didn't have the slightest idea of how long he'd been missing for any more – surely everyone in Starling believed he was dead? He didn't want to go back there. They could go to Australia, if Slade wanted to, or Shado could pick somewhere, or they could just pick somewhere at random.
It was the first time he had thought about the future in a long time, rather than living completely in the now. They would make it off of Liànyù one day, even if it took years to accomplish.
It was a miracle, really, that the trio managed to escape Ivo's men. Oliver had never been happier to see anyone in his life. Slade's face was healing – it would always be black, but it wasn't blistered or raw – and none of them seemed much worse for wear. He knew saying aloud the words he had come to terms with during his imprisonment had the possibility to ruin everything, but he had no qualms about expressing the emotion through action. That was how they communicated, after all. Their relationship was a silent one, but it was heartfelt, and to be honest, Oliver wouldn't have it any other way.
A/N: Sorry, endings aren't really my strong point.