Author Notes: Just to point this out, this fic will not go canon compliant through the events of The Promise (2.15).
A word of notice too, I want to try and shorten these chapters to get them out to you wonderful readers more often.
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Chapter 7: Scars
"We need to talk," Slade says, having just ensnared Oliver within his grasp.
The Omega's blood runs cold though jolting forwards fear doesn't really get a chance to settle into Oliver as adrenaline's quickly pumping through him at the first notion of a threat. Even if he knows there really isn't one. Arms around his chest, hands around his face—he hates being snuck up on, hates it with a passion.
Archers don't have the jump gotten on them, they do the jumping, otherwise they were prey, just like they were on the ground or anywhere else that's not a reasonable distance from their opponents.
He hadn't even walked through the door less than a minute ago and already Slade's pouncing on him from behind.
"Be quiet," Slade growls at him over his shoulder, the Omega making muffled cries of annoyance.
Writhing in the Alpha's grasp, Oliver only narrowly manages to catch his balance when Slade drags him backward slightly, losing his footing on the floor at the sudden motion. His feet trip so that he's reeling on his ankles and the rest of him falls backwards, the added few inches he has over Slade obviously a nuisance when the Alpha loosens his grip on him, hands detaching from silencing him to move backwards and not let the Omega fall.
He really doesn't want to but involuntarily Oliver lets Slade prevent him from falling over, head dropping into the crook of the Alpha's neck. Immediately he's feeling awkward when the Alpha isn't shoving him away, arms still a steel clasp around his body.
They'd had sex, yes—the infamously quick heat-and-rut he was now aware of—granted he felt more conflicted around Slade now, fully clothed. Must have been the heat hormones loosening his inhabitations.
"Are we alone?" Slade asks, looking annoyed as Oliver can now see the expression on the man's face whilst half-upside down and trying to right his footing.
"What do you think?" he retorts rather loudly, granted Felicity and Diggle could be anywhere.
He palms the Alpha in the chest roughly to try and break his grasp, though nowhere near enough to hurt him.
Slade seems to get the message quickly enough, releasing him and Oliver stumbles away from him, feeling his stomach tie itself in knots so close to the man. The Alpha's scent has also finally reached his nose, slightly soothing him despite him not wanting it to and still having a face full of Beta spray trickling up to his face from underneath his clothes and neck.
"I'll take that as a yes," Slade apprehends as Oliver doesn't respond, "'Wasn't sure you were going to come quietly, so I was prepared to take you by force if necessary."
Oliver visibly stiffens, back turned to the Alpha, several meters away from one another. Take him by force? Was Slade implying… of course, not. He was probably just going to make to kidnap him again like the last time they'd encountered each other.
"Well, guess what I'm not going anywhere with you," the Omega spits, not particularly wanting to go anywhere with Slade, at least not willingly.
Especially somewhere that wasn't Verdant, where he was most equipped to defend himself, if it came down to that. Which it probably wouldn't and even so he'd likely lose horribly.
"Alright, we'll do it here then," Slade says, and Oliver can practically hear the roll of eyes in his voice.
They were definitely not doing anything here though, not in Verdant where Felicity was due to show up with his replacement bow anytime soon. That rational thought is quickly drowned out yet when an array of questions bombard Oliver.
"'The fuck did you get in anyway?" Oliver demands, not having seen any signs that the Alpha had broken in, whilst turning around to look Slade up and down who's looking surprisingly more casual then he ever remembers seeing him.
He's not dressed in a suit or tactical gear like the Omega's used to, instead just reminds him of a wolf in sheep's clothing, dressed to downplay his somewhat hostile appearance and appear more civil. Even in jeans and a T-Shirt though, Oliver knows better than to start feeling comfortable around Slade as the Alpha just looks at him slightly bored-like.
"Forced the door, then re-locked it again from the inside," Slade shrugs, as if it was nothing.
So he had broken in, well forced his entry albeit through the back door somewhat discreetly. Oliver really doesn't care how, but why. And how long had Slade even been waiting for him to come by here?
"What were you even doing, just waiting for me to come by so you could attempt to abduct me again!"
Oliver's still not too happy about that, especially when he can't predict Slade's emotions—who right now appears calm—without Oliver's pheromones tipping the scales of reason for both of them.
"You've been avoiding the streets and down here, so I figured you'd have to show up here by the weekend. It was either that or I come knocking on your door. And besides most people would disagree that you can be abducted by your Alpha, which we need to talk about, you snake," Slade flares back, cool demeanour disappearing as the Omega looked to turn equally hostile.
Not that either of them probably imagined this was going to be a civil conversation to begin with.
Oliver nearly laughs, though the urge to do so is quickly drowned out by how pissed he is.
So Slade had noticed the Bond, possibly later rather than sooner, seeing as he was only now getting a visit from the Alpha. Slade couldn't also completely blame him in this situation, seeing as if he had never let on about those emotions Oliver wouldn't have thought it possible. Then Oliver might have been the one getting the nasty surprise, because at least with Tommy he knew a Bond wouldn't take.
One whiff of another potential partner on an Alpha, or vice versa, where they were obviously being intimate, usually prevented the Bonding process from happening with anyone else. Or even the Omega or Beta not falling pregnant from another's seed. Because although society wasn't completely monogamous—Alphas would still give up their left nut or so for a chance with some Omegas—Bonding, or at least science, dictated otherwise.
From Slade's words it sounded like he had also bugged Verdant or was at least keeping tabs on him somehow, both Oliver was unappreciative of. Whatever the case, it was quickly disregarded in the heat of their continuing argument.
"You think I'd just idly sit by and watch as you destroyed my city? You have no idea. I might not be able to kill you, didn't seem to work the last time when I drove an arrow through your head, but you can be damn sure I'll put a noose around your neck and make sure it stays there," Oliver snaps, referring to the nigh-unbreakable quality of Bonds.
Granted using his charm and sexual prowess, was usually a thing of the past for him, it was still an effective way of getting what he wanted. Especially now that the stakes look like they've never been higher, the amount of people dead from the Mirakuru likely only the city's second highest death counter recently from a singular threat. First being the earthquake incident nearly a year ago.
He's almost surprised when Slade hasn't smashed him then, having openly admitted to his somewhat manipulation, coerced Bonding, though you almost always ran the risk of it happening—Bonding—anyway. If the circumstances were met.
When Slade responds, Oliver has to wonder if the Alpha has a lot more control than he's ever remembered or his instincts were placating him from trying to harm his Omega. Both was good.
"I wouldn't have expected someone like you to remain chaste for a month. Couldn't keep your hands off Shado, now could you."
That was a low blow even for Slade: Shado. Seeing as neither her nor her father had been breathing down his neck in their first encounters he might have ended up slightly more comfortable around her than said Alpha in front of him. Especially when she wasn't smashing his face into the ground every other day, unlike Slade, which did not fit with Oliver's definition of 'learn how to defend yourself'.
Refusing to rise to Slade's bait though, Oliver easily enough deflects his comment.
"Actually no, it's closer to twenty-eight days, the average Omega's heat cycle," Oliver chides.
Slade just snorts at him, either not wanting to know or not caring about whether or not he'd actually been chaste.
"So what, you're just going to stay on suppressants for the rest of your life? Hide from the world another secret like the coward you are!"
Of course Slade knew about the suppressants… probably could smell them in his sweat last week, and even though many years had passed, could tell how Oliver's current scent greatly differentiated from the almost sickly sweet one he had on Lian Yu. Too great a change in a person's scent to have happened by natural causes, like aging or Bonding.
As an Alpha, who knew what he really smelt like under all that false pretence, Slade no doubt might have be feeling cheated. Or at least confused when Oliver's masked scent was sending different signals to what the Alpha knew to be true.
In this situation, Oliver is just continually rubbing it into Slade's face that he's got him right where he wants him.
"Oh no, I'll come clean eventually. I'm going past my prime and if I'm lucky I'll be able to go off suppressants by time I'm thirty-five," Oliver admits, too hoping that once his body hits menopause.
It couldn't be coming soon enough, the day he no longer has to worry about unwanted Bondings and Alphas trying to molest him every which way. Which right now he didn't have to worry about the former either, to a lesser extent, as he currently has a pissed-off, recently-Bonded Alpha in front of him that needs more worrying about.
"What are you thirty—"
"Twenty-eight," Oliver corrects, not entirely sure why he felt the need to.
"Even worse," Slade glowers, "prodigal son leaves no heir to his family".
Of course… Slade knew about that too.
"Shut up," Oliver snaps, using his height over the Alpha to try and make himself feel that little bit more confident, "you have no right to come into my city and criticise my lifestyle when you have idea what it's like!"
Oliver can feel his control over the situation slipping as the Alpha easily gets under his skin, seeming to know all the ins-and-outs of his life. The Arrow, his dynamic, it was like none of his secrets were safe anymore if they weren't safe from Slade.
"Maybe I don't," Slade starts, Oliver almost thankful when the Alpha doesn't seem like he's further prying, "but I know it isn't the island where every Alpha was out to pound your arse."
"Well, it would be if every Alpha here knew I wasn't a Beta!" Oliver spits, watching Slade roll his eyes again.
"They probably wouldn't know what to do with you, but I do."
Removing his hands from his pockets, Slade goes to grab for the Omega's wrist but Oliver quickly flails away from him, the Alpha not using the necessary force he'd need to subdue such an Omega.
"Fuck off!" Oliver cusses, moving out of the Alpha's reach.
Not content to let Slade put his hands all over him within the same moment he feels like he's getting a lecture. But the Alpha does it anyway, quietly moving up behind him, hands on his shoulders quicker than Oliver can blink.
"Maybe if we bring you into heat again we'll see how willing you are."
Oliver cringes, knowing what the Alpha said to be very true and feeling his breath caressing over his collarbone, sluicing over the same area where Slade had left his half-bites, half-kisses. Resisting his more natural urge to panic and again swat the Alpha away, the Omega squashes it down in favour of trying to get the situation back under his control.
"If I come into heat, you'll also go into rut," Oliver whispers.
In Bonded pairs, if the recipient went into heat—natural or otherwise, brought on by their partner—as well as them being interested, their partner would be hard pressed to not have sex with them.
Slade growls back at him, obviously knowing what Oliver was getting at. That the Alpha was unable to resist clamouring onto a willing Omega in front of him, as shown by the past week's events.
"Don't you dare, not think you aren't a slave to your biology either!"
Oliver smirks at that, even if Slade doesn't see it, pulling everything back under his oversight.
"I don't. I've just gotten used to being not what my dynamic would suggest."
With that Oliver slipped out from under the Alpha's hands, Slade not bothering to try and keep him there.
"You play with fire, you get burned, kid," Slade huffs, not bothering to follow the Omega.
How very rich of him to say. Didn't Oliver mention he hates the 'kid' thing as well? It was almost demoralising at this point. Right now he's willing to chastise Slade as well though. Play the 'submissive' Omega if that's what it took to get the Alpha off his back.
"You wouldn't do anything to hurt your precious Omega? Or try to upset him, now would you?" Oliver coos, giving the Alpha a quirk of his eyebrows.
"Not if you don't continue being a little shit I won't."
"What, decided you wouldn't kill anyone either this week to see if I'd talk to you?" Oliver half-seethes, finding himself pressed up into a steel table as the Alpha has started walking him backwards, granted still keeping a steady distance apart from one another.
"That ain't got nothing to do with me, kid. You have no idea how many people I am currently keeping in line," Slade protests, "besides, up until a year or so ago, the Starling City Vigilante still left arrows in everyone's chests."
Oliver feels like Slade is lying to him through his teeth, yet the Alpha trying to imply like their methods were one in the same is even more irritating.
"Those were people poisoning this city, I had an oath," which Slade doesn't need to hear about, "whereas these are innocent people you're killing for the sake of your own… whatever!"
No one was allowed to get hurt at Oliver's expense, no one. Especially when Oliver's not sure what's he done to make Slade's hatred burn that deep, to where other people needed to suffer for it, other than defend himself when he was about to have his spine snapped.
"Yeah, and look at who just saved your ass the other night from becoming an Alpha's bitch," Slade cusses as they're right up in the face of each other.
So close that their breaths ghost over one another and the agitated play of tendons is visible underneath their skins. Their eyes meet—dark brown and blue—where Oliver can tell Slade's annoyed, though not blatantly angry with him. Slade's natural instincts were possibly dulling his aggression, just as Oliver would expect. Rather they would do the opposite, tell him to protect his Omega.
This close Oliver can also smell himself on Slade, the-definitely-not-a-Beta-smell of his own under the Alpha's own musky aroma. There's probably more of an accurate representation of his natural scent there than there currently is on himself.
It distracts him slightly, so it's a moment before he responds while Slade just presses in front of him looking intimidating. Oliver's not feeling threatened however.
"Oh, I'm sorry, were you expecting a thank you?" Oliver responds sarcastically, 'Cause I think I was doing just damn fine and didn't need you to come to my 'rescue' either."
That might have been a lie but Oliver was never going to admit when he was too weak to defend himself.
"Yeah, you were doing just damn fine too after I stuck my dick in you."
"Just returning the favour, seeing as you liked sticking your hands all over me so much last time!"
Granted neither of them were in a particularly good place at that time.
Slade's practically on top of him now, Oliver feeling the impulse to back down and make himself smaller in the presence of his obviously displeased Alpha. Both of Slade's hands are on either side of him and he is scuffling backwards hard-pressed against the steel frame of the table just to create some semblance of distance between them.
Instinctively, Oliver's reaching for his bow—anything to arm and defend himself with, or at least have the comfort of it nearby.
He's completely empty-handed though after a couple seconds of fumbling around, the table obviously being a barren one and not accompanied by anything of usage to him. Thankfully Slade chooses that moment to halt in his painfully slow crawl towards him, looking at him somewhat baffled and equally annoyed, like Oliver's struck a nerve with his words.
"Don't lie to me, kid," the Alpha growls, voice thick with his natural accent slipping more into it, "If you think I did anything that counted as jumping your bones before last week, and there was that last time—both of which you were incredibly asking of—,you're sorely mistaken. If I did, you certainly would have known about it."
Was Slade fucking with him?
"Oh, I knew about it all right, still gave me plenty of bruises before but this time there wasn't any scarring at least," Oliver grits out, the words not entirely what he meant to say.
Yet, stuff it. The Alpha's annoying him.
This time round Slade was a lot more gracious with him yet he's still wearing a chain of bruises around his neck, which has been particularly difficult to hide, restricting his wardrobe options. It was like the world's worst hickey, nothing short of a miracle in Oliver's head, all things considered, when he's probably had more than a hundred in his life. Still purple and flaring up slightly with pressure put on it after a week.
Slade had done him worse though—not including his idea of 'training' either—on the freighter, which hadn't even really added up to proper intimacy in his books. He still had ended up a lot worse though than he had after this past Thursday's night.
"What scar?" Slade half-demands, narrowing his gaze at Oliver.
Oh yeah, Slade didn't know, and if he had noticed the scar he had probably just chocked it up to another one of the dozen scars Oliver had gotten on the island. He doesn't really want to talk about it—not about how'd he had stuck an arrow head through the Alpha's eye, granted unintentionally—and seeing as Slade seemed to avoiding the subject too, the safest bet just seemed to be to try and brush it under the rug.
"Just one of many," Oliver says, with an underling tone that said'end of discussion'.
Slade doesn't seem to like his vagueness though as within seconds the Alpha's hands are underneath his thighs, elevating him backwards onto the steel table. Oliver snaps at Slade as he's dropped backwards albeit smoothly, grabbing at the Alpha's wrists as Slade starts pulling up his jacket.
"What are you doing?" Oliver seethes, knowing how futile his clawing over Slade's arms was all the same.
Slade easily enough wrestles the Omega's hands away from his—who's not bothering to try and kick or knee him given the awkward angling and that he'd probably just end up hurting himself. Slade then resumes hauling up Oliver's shirt where majority of his scarring seems to consist, Oliver submitting quickly enough.
Allowing the Alpha to remove his shirt as best as possible without letting him up, knowing how useless his struggle was as what Slade wanted, he could always get by force. Even before the Mirakuru.
Maybe he shouldn't have been so snarky about it as then Slade wouldn't have been half-stripping him down here if Oliver had just been complacent to shut up. But he'd always rather not unveil the physical reminders of how Slade had hurt him, just like how the Alpha wasn't going to pull of his eyepatch and show Oliver the damage he'd done there. He hadn't taken the Alpha's whole eye out, from his vague stupor-like remembrance of the scenario, but he imagined Slade was blind in that eye regardless.
Oliver huffs, trying to remain annoyed at Slade but intrinsically twinges when the man runs his—surprisingly smooth—palms over his stomach, tracing up and over the muscle density there to one of the larger scars he has. Had Slade's hands always been that smooth?
Slade meets his eyes for a moment, brows quirked, as if to say 'which bloody scar?' or 'what did you say I did?' and Oliver shifts slightly, unsure how to respond to his unspoken questions.
"Leave it," Oliver presses, attempting to push Slade's hands off him again.
"No, I want to see," the Alpha growls, telling him to oblige.
The Omega doesn't cease with his ineffective struggling however, Oliver not liking how Slade's hands were again over where they once were, how close they were to the scar he'd left on him. This one not from training or knife gashes but from where the Alpha's fingers had slipped through his skin like paper.
"You had your looking and touching last week, now get off of me," Oliver urges, anxiousness creeping into his voice.
He doesn't like it, didn't think he could still get so worked up about it either. Because between the ongoing guilt of thinking he'd killed one of his only friends on the island, there was the also the matter Alpha could have really killed him. Easily. Just like how easy it seemed to be for Oliver to miscalculate the range of his strike and leave Slade with an arrow in his eye.
You had no choice, his mind might argue but by the same token he had been the one to inject the Alpha with the same substance that could have poisoned his mind that way. Warped his actions and made him do things he usually would not have.
Unfortunately for him, Slade doesn't stop or seem to slow with his touches or observations on the Omega's upper body.
"Yeah," Slade says, seeming to agree with Oliver's earlier sentence, "I barely touched you though."
Slade's and Oliver's opinion would have to disagree on that.
"'Might have left you a couple bruises, nothing you wouldn't get in a fight. You still whinging about that nick I gave you on your back below your ribs or something?"
Why can't Slade just drop it, Oliver has to mentally ask himself.
As if to empathise the point, Slade weaves his hand to around Oliver's chest, where he's bunched up the Omega's top and jacket, before slinking that palm underneath him. Even without the apparent added strength, Slade props Oliver up into a seated position, easing up off the Omega albeit moving his other hand to about the midpoint of Oliver's spine.
There's a thin mark there, healed over without any proper stitching so that the change in the skin texture is distinctly noticeable when the Alpha runs his thumb over it.
Oliver doesn't seem to appreciate it as his response is to glower and try to work his trapped wrist out of Slade's hand. His eyes betray that he's getting worked up and the Alpha can only light-heartedly chuckle amused, still keeping his hold on the Omega.
"Don't like it when I get touchy, do we?" Slade coos, "'Should have thought about that before you were so enthusiastic to get into bed with me."
Slade just tsks, Oliver still fighting to get away from him yet not particularly forcefully, while he gravitates his free hand over the blemishes of the Omega's body. There was some he'd never seen before or really bothered to take notice of whilst screwing Oliver's brains out but that couldn't be helped.
Most of the ones on the Omega's back felt like training wounds, large proportions of split skin from bamboo lacerations or the rare times he'd pulled out his katana on the kid to try and better motive him to get his shit in gear.
Above that, right shoulder blade, is the entry wound from Yao Fei's arrow. Slade's knows this because it was the scar the kid used to complain about the most, that he'd been unnecessarily shot from behind and it may as well have ruined his flawless skin. Or at least that's all he could make out from Oliver's bitching.
"Let me go," Oliver hisses as if on cue, using the free hand he's trying to push Slade away with to finally punch him in the chest.
His fist connects though feeling the Alpha barely flinch in response causes Oliver to deflate slightly.
"You asshole!" the Omega spits, retracting his fist although Slade goes nowhere.
"Now, now wouldn't want you to hurt yourself," Slade almost mocks and Oliver scowls back at him.
Sweeping his fingers past the sword slashes left from Billy Wintergreen on Oliver's chest, Slade stops when he notices a wound he doesn't recognize. It's above the Omega's left hip indent, where several punctures wounds have happened at the same time to almost form a crescent moon shape. They're close-knit and could have possibly passed for a shark bite had there been more segregations.
"What'd you do to yourself here? One of those wolves on the island get you?"
Slade sees Oliver visibly swallow at his words with the expression that told him 'I don't want to talk about it'. His face looks flush like all fight has left him, the Omega seeming to have instantly gone from being hostile towards Slade's too close presence to looking like a deer caught in a car's headlights.
Although Slade still really hates the kid—particularly because of the waking up with one of Oliver's arrow's sticking out of his head for seemingly no fucking reason and being left for dead—but right now he's concerned about him.
He's hiding something.
"Nothing, now let me go," Oliver says, voice small and pulling back against the Alpha.
Slade tightens his grip slightly on his Omega's wrist, Alpha protective instincts kicking into overdrive when Oliver continually avoids his gaze.
"No, not now until you tell me what's up with you."
Warning bells sound off in Oliver's head, telling him to get away from Slade.
What the hell was he thinking, trying to keep the Alpha at a distance from by Bonding him? It was the complete opposite of what a Bond implied, as shown through the last week that the mere scent of Slade sent the compulsive need through him to want to be around him.
At least not right now as without hormones clouding his judgement, having Slade's hands on him intimately in any way, shape or form, was brewing up flashbacks he'd rather forget.
Do… what does he do?!
Oliver's shaking, eyes wide and it's not until a seemingly pacified Slade removes himself from him does the Omega notice. Unlike last time, where the Alpha hadn't done the noticing.
"Kid, what's wrong? I'm not gonna hurt you."
Oliver's not sure what Slade is supposed to be referring to, the matter of hurting him physically, emotionally or via doing so through the people he cared about.
Either way it didn't matter as the mention of it causes the Omega to hiss back at the Alpha, thumping Slade in the chest as he scrambles upwards off of the table, yanking his clothing back down into place.
"That's what you said last time!"
Slipping off and away from the table, Oliver snarls at Slade when he tries to follow him, who looks slightly taken aback.
He's worked up, strung up—was even before Slade showed up in the picture, always with the weight of his crest-fallen city on his shoulder—but having a man he thought he'd once killed, intentions unknown, show up in his life again pulls that mortal coil so much tighter.
Especially when he's not exactly sure how he feels about said Alpha and vice versa.
Either way, the past week had shown that the cool exterior he was usually able to mask behind and equally used to play the Vigilante with was practically void in Slade's presence. The cracks in it even starting to show at the thought of the newly trudged up memories of Lian Yu.
Fuck… just when he thinks he has it all under control, can protect everyone with no risk to them, he has to go and crack under pressure. He's so stupid, weak, just like always.
Behind him, the Omega's back turned, he hears Slade's approach, possibly uncertain how to take his mood swing that possibly looks to the Alpha that it's came out of nowhere.
Oliver's just trying to compose himself when Slade attentively places a hand on his shoulder, causing him to wheel around on the Alpha.
"No! You don't get to apologize now for what you did!" Oliver yells, slapping the Alpha's hand away from him.
Slade's expression quickly contours from one of rare compassion to anger.
"Well, I wouldn't have to if you hadn't stuck an arrow in my face!"
Oliver feels a twinge of guilt stab him through his fury, his response to the Alpha's outburst not immediate.
The urge to punch Slade, defend himself, is there. Especially when he's grown more used to physical assault than verbal and dishing it out in the same way. The sliver of his mind still retaining reason knows his violence is useless against Slade though, which he easily enough restrains himself from doing.
Knowing what he'd done to the Alpha, albeit accidently—probably damn near killed him—was likely unforgiveable.
Unlike how Slade in the situation had only been responding to how an Alpha usually did to an Omega in heat. Nurse them, bed them, knot them and put them out of their misery. Considering Slade had even restrained himself at all for a while was admirable, Oliver knowing better even despite his irritation that most Unbonded Alphas wouldn't have shown him that much constraint in such a situation.
They would have taken advantage of his weakness, tried to sate his heat regardless of how much consent he gave.
And didn't he at least give Slade the consent to do so, no matter how half-assed the verification of that fact might have been. And the Alpha had waited for that before he'd done anything serious, had left him for the most part alone, when he ran off into the woods at night, crying out and always with the potential to give their position away to any one of Fyer's men who stumbled upon him.
And what did he do in return? 'Kept Slade at a distance and nearly killed him when he'd gotten a bit too rough with him.
Even though it was his fault for needing to be saved in the first place. His fault for being too weak to prevent Ivo from taking him. For walking around in the open so close to his heat when really he should have been in hiding.
For causing Slade to run off in the first place in the grief of Shado's death because he didn't save her.
Slade just looks at him, eyes alive with burning intensity and Oliver feels the guilt of the situation singe his insides. Even if he'd never felt quite as bad about it until now, the Alpha coming at him with accusations. His anger melts away like ice under the gaze of the Sun, dwindling as Oliver steps backwards and grows passive under the Alpha's fury.
"I didn't mean to," he murmurs, though Slade hears him clearly.
"You liar!" Slade spits back at him, hands dragging through his hair in agitation.
"It was an accident—"
Oliver tries to reason, knowing firmly in himself he'd never wanted to really hurt Slade, but the Alpha doesn't see it that way.
"Don't say it! I saved your sorry arse from Ivo and you repay me by 'killing' me and leaving me for dead! What was it? What was it that was so bad only now do you decide you want my fucking knot again? I was going to give you exactly—"
Slade's nearly flown into a fit of rage when Oliver shouts over top of him, hands clenching into fists at his sides.
"You were going to kill me!"
Their conversation immediately comes to a halt, Oliver stiffening after the words have left his mouth. Wondering whether it was the right thing to say when he can no longer determine the emotions crossing the Alpha's face. He wants to glare back at him but it's a half-hearted attempt at best when Slade's expression grows sullen, looking like the Alpha's entire demeanour has crumpled.
"You liar!" Slade tries to hiss but his voice cracks in the middle.
Oliver instinctively takes a step back though Slade takes one forward.
"Slade, I—"
"No!" Slade growls, low and without any of its usual fury, instead replaced by something Oliver can't quite place.
"Don't you lie to me, not about this... I kept your near useless arse alive for months, fucking Omegas like you don't survive in the wild. They die—they get raped and killed, because it's like the first sign of a lamb in front of a pack of starving wolves. Sometimes I was saving your arse week in and week out, because no matter how hard you tired they'd always catch hint of your scent."
Oliver remembers that—Fyer's men—the lengths he, or rather they, had to go to prevent them from stumbling upon them. The pleasing smell of an Omega in heat, the siren's call that could go on for miles, calling or warnings its intended targets. Either way his heats on the island were hardly ever discreet, more often than not they attracted unwanted attention. Meaning people died left and right, courtesy of Slade—who for the first couple times was always perched not far away—even after Oliver would hiss at him to piss off and not follow him.
The Alpha never did anything though, wouldn't alert him that he was there either until the shank of a sword from its sheath rang out followed closely by the sliding of it through enemy flesh. They might have looked at each other for a moment—soldier's body falling to the floor of the underbrush between them—Slade slightly twitching to distinctly keep from not coming near him. Oliver would always just scuffle away back into the shrub though, without thanks, only knowing he had to get away.
Get away to where it was safe, only there were no safe places. Not when Slade was easily enough able to track him and set up camp nearby, him completely oblivious to the other.
And now Slade's done it again. So discreetly set up work, not even miles away from him, this time in his city, his territory and Oliver wouldn't have known any better unless Slade hadn't let him.
Oliver visibly swallows, not knowing what to say, but stricken by the Alpha's words and the memories it entailed all the same.
When Slade speaks again, the anguish in his voice is clearly detectable.
"You were always the most difficult thing about that wretched island yet I kept you alive all the same, for months! And now you have the indecency to try and tell me that I was going to kill you before you tried to kill me."
He doesn't know—Oliver thinks—Slade doesn't know.
Even as the Alpha's eye meets his own, gaze dark and half-accusing, like daring him to lie, lie again, like Slade's seems to think he's done the entire time.
And maybe he should, but how does he lie when he's been telling the truth the entire time? How is he supposed to tell Slade that his love was painful, how he'd hurt him enough though the Alpha might think he was the only one that had gotten hurt here.
How is Oliver supposed to say that Slade's attempt to 'care for him' back on Ivo's freighter was closer to killing him?
He should lie, he really should. He's good at that when no one will be getting hurt because of Oliver's kept secrets.
He doesn't.
"It wasn't your fault…"
"What wasn't?" Slade perks up, before roaring at him, "The part where you stabbed me in the head!"
Oliver flinches, forcing himself to still and take the man's anger as Slade needed to know. If he tells the truth—which he would have assumed the Alpha had known all along, why Oliver had left him for dead because he thought he was dead, hadn't meant to hurt the Alpha had only wanted him off of him —maybe it will bury the hatchet of the situation.
Slade still seething, Oliver waits until a moment of silence has passed between them, continually avoiding the Alpha's gaze.
Attentively, he goes for the side of his jacket, ruffling it up along with his shirt, pulling up the corner of the left side.
"I didn't notice it at first," Oliver begins, the Alpha still staring at him with a gaze like a hawk's, "after… I was prepared to let you knot me, 'cause no harm there and I trusted you. You'd been… really good around me… It might have been a stupid idea but I don't think either of us were in the right frame of mind to know any better"
Oliver slows, forcing himself to remember distinctly what had happened, the parts he would purposely try to forget about.
"I wanted it, yeah I wanted it. I was in too much pain to not want it. But…"
There was always the but, Oliver pausing to swallow and avert his gaze from Slade not wanting to see the look on his face.
"There was blood… from where you'd had your hands one me, five fine punctures on the left… Which I didn't notice until after… 'cause I was so worked up about what had happened, but it still hurt."
They'd been so deep, so deep, at the time. Ached the entire time as Sara dragged him from Ivo's freighter, had pleaded with him they had to go. He'd need stitching if he didn't hope to bleed out. They didn't look life-threatening, as he was able to push them aside in his heartbroken agony, but Sara hadn't been willing to take that chance.
"No."
"You were so rough… I thought I could take it but I couldn't… and I knew I had to do something… I didn't want to hurt you, didn't mean to. It wasn't your fault though."
Oliver knows he might just be babbling by now as he's barely acknowledging Slade in front of him.
"No…"
"The scar… I deserved it; it was like the last thing I had to remember you by…"
"No, you lie!"
Oliver flinches, gaze snapping back onto Slade where the Alpha's hand is wrapped around his wrist. Immediately tugging it away from where the Omega is half haphazardly holding up the side of his shirt.
Not bothering to push Slade away, Oliver lets the Alpha place fingers over his body. He knows what Slade is going to see without even having to look.
"Not the first scar you gave me… but definitely the most painful one."
Maybe not in terms of the wound itself but what it signified. So right it had been… so wrong it had gone.
"You lie!" Slade says, forcing their eyes to meet by giving Oliver a half jolt, "You said it yourself you spent another four years on that island."
That was true…
"You really don't remember?" Oliver forces himself to say, voice cracking as he stares into the darkness of the Alpha's eye.
Sees how much the Alpha wants to deny what he's saying.
Eyes still locked with Slade's, he takes the Alpha's hand resting on the bottom of his ribcage, pulls it downward and lets his thumb wrap around the back of his hip.
Slade looks down and so does Oliver.
Slade's fingertips are near-on perfectly conformed to the scar, the tissue left over. Inch by inch of skin with the small gaps of unscathed areas in-between.
When Slade pulls away, Oliver forces himself to look back at him, instinctively feeling the need to apologize, though not sure what for. Only that he should.
"Slade, I—"
His words are cut off by the door slamming.
And with it Slade was gone.
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Author Notes: The scar on Oliver's left hip is actually there in canon, you can see it in the promo pics.
