AN: I honestly have nothing. I don't even know where this came from. Not the story idea, not the format, nothing. It just kinda happened while I was bored in history class. I may continue it, I may not. I don't know yet. I just thought I may as well post what I got.

Disclaimer: I don't own Arrow or the characters or anything like that. I'm just a poor Floridian.


The first time Tommy sees Oliver after he gets back from the island, he forgets how to breathe. He grins like a fool and pretends that the handshake he gets is enough, like he doesn't want to grab his friend and shake him, make sure he's really there and this isn't some sort of alcohol induced dream.

(It wouldn't be the first time. He's missed him so much.)

He doesn't know which change is the hardest for him to adjust to; the tension in his old friend's shoulders, the way he carries himself, the deep scar he sees poking out from under his sleeve, or the way he seems to be on high alert and at some sort of ease at the same time.

(He knows it's actually the haunted, hollow look in the blue eyes that were once so full of life. That he'll never get used to.)

A couple times, he thinks he sees snippets of the old Oliver rising to the surface. It's enough to keep him trying, to pretend like a single day hasn't gone by and it's all alright.

(It's all in his head. The best friend he grew up with, loved… he died on that island sometime in the past five years.)

The panic he feels when they get taken right off the street eclipses anything he's ever felt before. He's never been so scared, so lost, so afraid.

(He just got Oliver back. He can't lose him again. Can't.)

He's barely even conscious when fate decides to give them a "Get Out Of Jail Free" card. Someone saves them. He can't even see the guy, only blurs of motion that don't make any sense. He stops looking at the fight and instead tries to spot his friend through his haze. He loses consciousness again before he sees him.

He uses the term 'pretty damn lucky' to describe the fact that a never before seen vigilante just happened to rescue them from what the police call "professional hitmen." He supposes he should thank God, but he's never been really religious.

(He prays that night anyway.)

x X x

He laughs when Quentin accuses Oliver of being the Hood, turning to his friend and grinning. He throws in a few snarks against the detective for good measure, and earns a small half smile in response that he chooses to believe is progress.

(Somewhere deep inside himself, he knows.)

x X x

Almost a month after his friend's return, a man shows up at the Queen Mansion. Oliver takes a single look at him and just unfurls. Every inch of him relaxes as he stares at the man, the smallest hints of a smile tugging at either side of his mouth. It's small, but so bright it makes every smile and laugh Tommy's seen in the past month seem as dark as midnight. And it's all in response to him.

(He's never seen anything like it.)

"Hey Kid." The Aussie greets with a ghost smile that matches Oliver's. It almost seems odd how the man with a nasty scar down his arm and wild hair whose every inch seems to scream aggression can speak with such genuine warmth.

"Slade. You came."

It breaks Tommy's heart how vulnerable his best friend sounds in that moment, like this man meant the Earth and the moon and everything in between and he'd been sure he'd lost it.

"'Course I did. Told ya you weren't getting rid of me."

They don't hug, don't shake hands, they just stare at each other, an unspoken conversation passing between them in an instant.

(He wishes beyond belief he could understand.)

They gravitate toward each other, whether they realize it or not. Each move one makes, the other responds in kind. Every bit of wariness that Oliver's held on to since he got back to Starling vanishes, replaced by complete and utter trust by the man who calls himself Slade Wilson.

Half a minute passes before the apparent joy at their reunion fades a bit, replaced by a tense, protective air that, though defensive, is different from what Tommy's come to expect. It takes him a few minutes to realize why it's different.

(They're not defending themselves, they're defending each other. Like it's the most natural thing in the whole goddamned world.)

Moira stares at Wilson like he's got a second head when he introduces himself as her son's only company for the past five years. Thea looks confused for a second, before she smiles a little bit, like she's relieved to have proof that her brother wasn't entirely alone on that island – the testimony he gave at his resurrection trial saying that he hadn't been be damned. Tommy shakes the man's hand and thanks him for keeping Oliver from tripping over a rock and killing himself.

(He thanks him for keeping him alive. Keeping him safe.)

Slade nods.

"You must be Tommy," he says, glancing at Oliver out of the corner of his eye – another fast, wordless conversation – "I've heard plenty about you over the years."

Tommy smiles.

(He wishes he believed that.)

Wilson takes one of the many guest bedrooms at the Queen house – this time something Thea insisted on – for while he's in Starling. He's pretty sure that there's no way the former ASIS agent is just passing through town, but he doesn't say that.

He chooses the room right down the hall from Oliver's. Tommy tries not to read too much into that.

The next morning, Oliver and Slade are nowhere to be found. It takes half an hour to find them, and for a second, Tommy thinks he may have to test his own fighting skills when he sees Slade aim a kick toward his friend's head. But Oliver catches the blow and twists his opponent's leg and forcing him to the ground with a low grunt. He pins the older man to the ground, holding his arms on either side of his body and straddling his waist.

And then Slade starts laughing and drives his heel into Oliver's back, flipping them over.

"Ah, c'mon kid, it hasn't even been a month and you're already useless." He growls, though there's a light edge that gives the impression that he's kidding. He releases the younger man, dragging him to his feet by his hand and the match begins anew.

Tommy wants to look away, doesn't want to see anyone get hurt, but he can't.

(It's savagely beautiful the way they move.)

The second match ends much like the first, with Slade crouching over a pinned down Oliver, but there's no taunting words this time, just ragged breathing that he can hear from the hiding spot he didn't remember getting into.

The fact that it looks so much like a scene from a movie almost makes him snicker – the closeness between their bodies, the intensity of it all, and the way that Slade looks like he's about to-

(The stick cracking beneath his foot might not have been so much of an accident.)


So... Thoughts? Should I continue? Reviews and favorites are always, always, always appreciated, I hope you enjoyed.

~TheFallenArchangel