A/N: Okay, so I haven't actually seen a lot of Smallville. The first few seasons, but not much after that. I still really like this pairing, and decided to try writing it to take my mind off of all the crappy honors classes I was stupid enough to sign up for. So this came along. In it, Oliver is actually the same age as Clark, 17, not older. Just so no one gets confused.

Hope you like it! Don't forget to review :)

xxx, Eve

Note: dslfkj= thoughts. alsdkjf= speech. lsdkfj=emphasis

Down Under

Chapter One: No Reason In Particular

It's true, Oliver mused, glaring out the mirror-like window, his fingers trapping the leather curve of his seat in the palm of his hand. Misery loves company.

For in the drivers seat was a government worker, giving him a ride to school. Why a government lackey, Ollie would never know, but apparently there were enough on standby to drive an orphan to school on their first day. In fact, the blond had woken up to a loud knocking (slamming) on the door to his apartment at four in the morning, so they had to have time on their hands.

Ironically, the worker had stormed inside with a coffee and a newspaper and sat around for three hours while Oliver tried and gave up on getting back to sleep, took a shower, and pulled himself into the semi-nice attire smallville teens had taken to. At seven forty-five, the worker had grabbed Ollie by the wrist, then promptly dragged him to the black Subaru the teen so kindly got from the community (because they took "pity" on orphaned kids who lived alone and somehow stayed away from breaking the law).

Not that Oliver hadn't broken the law before.

Actually...he'd broken the law on countless occasions. Dyeing the neighbor's shaved cat purple, spray painting the bridge where all the gangs went.

Dressing up at night and...

Anyway. The worker had rudely shoved him into the car. They'd managed to be around each other for over three hours, not including the utterly silent forty minute drive to school in the car ride they were currently surviving, and not speak a word. Ollie had randomly fist-bumped the worker's face just so that it would be an equally awkward experience for both of them.

"We're here." Ollie stated blandly, stepping out of the car once it had come to a stop in the drop-off zone. "Don't bother visiting again. I've got a ride." He didn't have a ride.

The worker nodded gruffly and pulled away, the car doing a mini power slide as he avoided hitting a few teenagers. The blonde sighed, wondering what he'd done to deserve this life, before smirking. Radiating confidence, he moved through the swarm of first day picture girls and made his way over to the attendance office.

Walking inside, it smelled like christmas-or at least, what Oliver would expect Christmas to smell like. Pine trees and candy canes, slightly stuffy, and overwhelmingly warm. There were even stray lights hung about the room. There was only one desk in the office, and a plump aged woman sat at it, gingerly poking at the keyboard of her computer. It looked like an ancient microsoft monster, ready to tear away at her hesitant fingers.

He cleared his throat and the woman's gaze flew over to him, eyes wide. "I'm sorry," She said, smiling kindly. "I'm not quite used to this yet. I'm Nancy Frost, you can call me Nancy or Nanna. You'll have to forgive me, I counsel students, I'm just here to fill in for today."

"Nice to meet you." Oliver said, shaking her hand gently. He tried to shake away the awe of meeting such a...kind looking woman. All of them that he'd met were either hookers or broke, the criminal kind. They were nice, but in a tough-love sort of way. So he smirked, and if anything, all he felt was his ego inflate slightly. "I'm Oliver Queen. This is my first year at your school."

"How nice," Nancy smiled. Her eyes seemed to twinkle. "Well, since you're new there will be a guide for your first semester here. Classes change often, and with the multiple floors, students can get lost. They should be waiting for you near the library by the time first period begins."

"Thanks," Oliver grinned charmingly, walking out of the office to look around the rest of the school. He hadn't been paying attention to it, focused more on the people than the actual building, and he had to wonder how much control the Luthor's got for donating so much money. The floors were white marble, and the walls were also white, spotless, with massive spotless windows taking up both sides of the hall. Through one side, you could see a giant courtyard-though you couldn't see through the trees and fountains to the other side.

His bully-detector did a dance inside his chest and he turned. Over in the corner, three jocks had surrounded what appeared to be a small, scrawny rat of a kid. The boy had a shock of red hair, and dark brown eyes. Oliver stepped forward to greet the quartet.

"What are you," He laughed viciously at the kid. "A third grader? Seriously. Go back to the Chocolate Factory before someone steps on you." Tears filled the boy's eyes.

He was not feeling guilty. Oliver Queen didn't feel guilty.

The trio regarded him with interested faces.

"Yeah." One of them grunted. "Get lost, pipsqueak, before we beat your face in." They closed around the boy, who was now pressed firmly to the wall.

"Why wait?" Oliver smirked. "When we can just take him out back and beat him there?"

The jocks looked dumbfounded that he'd not only joined in, but urged them on, before acceptance filled them and they turned to him. "You're not going to turn us in?"

Turn us in? Seriously, what were they, five? This wasn't jail. "Not as long as I get to do it."

He waited. This was the moment, that one where you either lose completely or come out with an even better reputation.

"Sure." The brunette jock offered, and the other two just watched on, not doing a thing. Dumb asses. Oliver nodded with a growing ego as he grabbed the kid by his backpack strap and forcefully pulled him through a glass door and into the courtyard. He kept pulling until he couldn't see walls in either direction, before crouching so he was on the same level as the kid.

"What's your name?" He growled, and the redhead flinched.

"R-roy."

"How old are you?"

"S-seven." Roy looked ready to cry. Ollie sighed and shook his head bitterly. They were going to beat up a second or third grader. What the hell was up with that?

"And why, pray tell, are you here?"

"My m-moms a teacher." Roy sniffed, rubbing his eyes, and Ollie wondered how on earth they could ever think about hurting such a soft-hearted kid.

So he did the only thing he could think of doing. "Okay, look kid, you're going to run around in the dirt a little, and when you come out, you're going to hold your stomach and cry like your freaking life is coming to an end."

Roy stared at him blankly.

"And you better act like you're god damned terrified of me or else, got it?" He growled. Roy nodded, eyes wide and still a little red.

"You aren't going to beat me up?" Well, wasn't that a personality change.

"Nope." A pause. "Not if you don't tell anyone about this."

"O-oh." A pause. Roy grinned shyly. "You're nice."

"It's my magnetic personality." Oliver replied dully, ignoring Roy's confused gaze and retracing his steps back to the door with a sigh.

"I'm Clark, I'm going to be your student guide." Clark greeted as the new student popped up. From what he could tell, the blonde was just a few inches shorter than him, and moved with a surprising grace. "Is this your first year in Smallville?"

"I'm Oliver. My parents and I lived here a couple years back." He answered, smirking for no apparent reason. Clark couldn't help but wonder why the look Oliver was giving him sent such an odd feeling through his system. Something was...off. Whether in a good or bad way, he didn't know.

"That's cool." The brunette mumbled, before pulling a neon flyer out of his pocket and unfolding it. He handed it to Oliver, who studied it uninterestedly. "Since I'm supposed to be your guide, you share your classes with me." So it'll be easier if you're a good person. A lot easier.

"Mm." Oliver grunted non-commitally, and Clark observed the person in front of him more closely.

Blonde hair and deep hazel eyes verging on light brown, he had beige skin that was nearly flawless, save for a strange looking scar mostly covered by his shirt. In fact, Clark discovered with a frown, upon a closer look there were small, almost-healed scars everywhere from his arms to his feet, and there was a hint of purple rings under his eyes.

"Where'd you get those scars?" He asked carefully, slightly hesitant just in case he scared the blonde off. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions, he was prone to do that, but parental abuse-

"What scars?" Oliver asked, and-was that fear in his voice? Vulnerability? No, he still held the smirk, Clark had to've been imagining it. He stopped his train of thought to consider the question, and, well, crap. So, he had x-ray vision now, too? What was next, would he grow wings and a tail?

"Oh, uh, no-"

"New Kid!" One of the football players, Whitney Fordman, was sauntering over. He had a blank look on his face, and Clark inwardly groaned. He didn't need this right now. Especially not in front of Oliver, who shouldn't have to deal with idiots on his first day. "Hey, New Kid!"

"Stranger." Oliver replied smoothly, and while his expression was what Whitney would see as friendly and confident, Clark could tell was amused and mocking.

"Did you beat him up yet?" Whitney asked, and Clark frowned deeply. Oliver...didn't give off the same air as a bully would. On the contrary, even the way he moved contradicted the assumption. "Where is he?"

"Please." Oliver snorted, smiling cruelly. "He couldn't even stand after a minute or two. Fucking wimp." Whitney grinned and nodded, ignoring Clark completely (not that Clark blamed him. They just didn't associate. It was better that way).

"Nice." Whitney grinned, making an expression that honest-to-god reminded Clark of an ape.

Clark was horrified. They must be talking about Roy, Whitney's usual victim. Why the hell would Oliver beat up the ginger, who was no more than half his size? His attitude darkened considerably, and he felt an aggressiveness take hold as he gripped Oliver's wrist painfully. "What the hell is your problem?! Roy's in third grade! You can't beat him up!"

"That's funny," Oliver replied smugly, the vicious smirk still etched over his unruffled features as his arm remained in Clark's tightening grip. "It seemed to work when I did."

The scars, Clark though. They're probably from people fighting him in self defense. The manipulative bastard, coming off like a decent person, being nice to Clark.

"What the fuck?" Whitney said, watching them stare each other down. "Are arms supposed to turn that color?"

Clark looked down in horror. The skin of Oliver's arm closest to his hand was white, while the rest of it was quickly shading from purple to blue. He glanced up, forcing his fingers to uncurl, just in time to see a flash of bare pain in Oliver's eyes. Quickly, though, the look faded, replaced with the same smug outlook.

"See you round, boy scout." Oliver grinned maliciously, sliding the schedule into his pocket and weaving into the crowd. Just as Clark was about to go after him the bell rang, and students swarmed past him. No matter where he looked now, he had to accept it. Oliver was gone.

Clark spent the rest of the day with Oliver out of his sights. Even with his (newly accumulated) x-ray vision, the brunette could not locate the new student.

Not that he cared. The blonde was obviously a bad person and influence on society; getting into fights and ditching his first day at a new school. Yeah, Oliver was definitely bad news. Clark sighed, and shifted his gaze over to Luthor, who was sitting across from him at the cluster of desks. Mr. Jenners had given the class a test, and everyone who finished it early was free to roam the school. Lex wanted to take them both to the library, since it was quiet and they could both study, so there they were.

The only problem was that Clark couldn't concentrate. For some more-than-mildly irritating reason, Oliver kept popping back up into his mind. Probably because I don't understand him Clark mused, because honestly, who could figure out why someone would screw up their life like that. Bullying was, as ironic as it seemed, not tolerated at Smallville High, and everyone who was caught even harassing another student was either suspended for a semester or, in more serious cases, kicked out.

So he was stuck fiddling with his pencil as Lex scanned his math workbook.

He could not get any more bored.

"Hey, I'm going to go grab a history textbook. Wait here for me." Lex said, pushing out of his seat and leaving Clark at the table. Alone.

He stands corrected. Now he couldn't get any more bored.

It took five minutes to wear Clark down. Two more after found him scrawling a quick, Grabbing a book, be back later on Lex's notebook and retreating to the second floor, which was slightly chattier and commanded by the smiling school counselor, Nanna. She was like the students' mother, or grandmother, always looking after and doting on them. It was sweet, and kinder than words could state.

He heard the soft thump of a heartbeat, sounding as though someone were only standing centimeters away. Frowning, he looked around. He was now embedded between two of the ceiling-high book shelves, which were painted a shimmering gold to match the ivory walls and chestnut furniture. The shelves were actually five feet from hitting the ceiling, which was thirty-five feet high (five feet above the standard legal rules, but hey, it was Smallville, they've dealt with worse problems), so it was possible someone was on the rolling ladder-like construction, but looking up, no one was there. The closest person he could see was a girl listening to her iPod and whistling the tune quietly over a hundred feet away.

He tried to focus in on where it was coming from. Soon, the heart beat was accompanied by the soft breathing that you might hear from a person slumbering peacefully. Almost the two patterned tempos alone made him lull into a comfortable day-dream of nothingness.

Curiosity got the better of him as he zeroed in on the location of the stranger, who was even deeper woven into the depths of the library than he was. Stepping quietly around the stacks and carefully-piled books already abandoned by their shelves, he followed the noise deeper into the facility.

He turned the corner of the bookshelf which, in turn, lead to four different book-shelf-formed paths to take. He listened as the peaceful sounds echoed through his head before taking the leftmost one. The sound of a page being turned almost quickened his step. He felt drawn to whoever these noises were coming from, wondering how they could be so in-depth and ethereal.

He slowed, making his steps even quieter as to not disturb or startle the individual out of their harmonic state. The right shelf he'd been walking by faded into a giant window, spanning through the entire 6 foot gap where there were no shelves upon shelves upon shelves, and just a startling view of the courtyard, before the packs of books began again on the other side.

A figure was leaning against the glass, the sunlight filtering through the glass onto his skin, making it glowing and illuminated. His now honey golden eyes were gentle and at-ease, unaware of his surroundings and carefully, almost gracefully reading each page as though it contained the secrets of immortality. He was beautiful. Clark felt a hard pounding in his chest, and a lurching feeling like he was falling before a chill went down his spine. It was the same feeling he'd get right before flying, or saving someone on patrol.

Oliver looked up from the book suddenly, startled. "Clark?"