You were hanging out in the 'Arrow Cave' as you called it, even though your best friend, the Green Arrow himself, despised the name. Bored out of your mind, you were scrolling through Tumblr when the attack occurred. Being a normal human with no special fighting skills, you hide under the table, hoping the attacker hadn't seen you.
Your hoping failed. The attacker was known as Deadshot, and the barrel of his gun was pointed to your head.
"You're not Mr. Arrow," he states. "So the question is, where is he?"
"In Central City. I'm just base sitting," you reply, shakey.
You knew Deadshot now had two choices. He could either leave you be, which seemed very unlikely. Or, more possible, he could shoot you as a message. With this knowledge you were prepared to die when he removed the barrel from your head. It wasn't even out anymore. And than, as if that wasn't surprising enough, he gives you his hand to help you from your hiding spot. You reluctantly took it, searching his eye for a possible explanation, not able to find one.
The only thing you could think to return his odd kindness was to offer him some coffee. You knew it was stupid and mentally facepalmed, until things got even weirder. He accepted.
The two of you sat in silence, sipping coffee. You stared at him, and you knew even though he wasn't looking at you, he knew that you were staring. You knew you shouldn't ask it, but couldn't help it much longer.
"Why did you spare me?"
He looked up from his coffee for the first time. He seemed surprised that you'd risk to ask him that. After a long pause he answered, "I don't know. It seemed like the right thing to do, and for once I actually wanted to do the right thing." He then stood up and said, "I guess I should go."
He was just a few seconds from the door when you surprised the both of you when you spoke up.
"Or you could stay."
Deadshot turned around and stared at you like he was expecting you to continue. Not knowing why you were saying these things, you did just that.
"I mean, if you want. I get kind of lonely here by myself when he's gone. And for some reason, just sitting with you makes that go away."
Afraid that you had said too much, you busy yourself with cleaning the cups at the makeshift kitchen, trying to hide your embarrassed face. Halfway through hand washing the first cup you felt his presence behind you, and his breath on your neck.
When he finally talked it almost made you jump. "Of course I'll stay," he said and placed a kiss on your cheek, quickly, and sat in one of the close-by chairs. "But I'll need some pancakes with those sweet eyes of yours."