It turns out that I just couldn't stop writing this story. It's taken on a life of its own.
Red and Green – Part 2
Oliver paced back and forth in his extraordinarily large bedroom, eyeing the lavishly decorated – if not dreadfully old fashioned – sanctuary that was supposedly his to claim. The freshly polished mahogany bookshelves loomed over him, haphazardly cluttered with textbooks, manuals, journals, maps, and the odd sculpture or platinum-laced globe. His bare toes and heels soundlessly wore down the Persian carpet that he treaded over for the hundredth time that hour. Had this really been his home five years ago? How had he felt about it then?
Craning his neck upwards to appraise the insanely rich chandelier illuminating the center of the room, Oliver decided that it didn't really matter that he couldn't remember how this room had made him feel. The only thing he knew was that it was making him feel miserable and uncomfortable now.
He'd spent five years on a hellish island, braving the tumultuous weather, enemy attacks, torture, and the rogue landmine. It had been a very long and dark period of his life. And now that he was back home, was he expected to find a claustrophobic museum of a room inviting? Hell, the bed had to be older than his great-grandmother. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if she had slept in it, way back when.
The books held no meaning for him. The wardrobe didn't have anything in it that he had the slightest intention of wearing. It was all for show. Just one big model showroom for a pompous celebrity to go nuts in.
Oliver paused when he heard faint footsteps padding down the opposite end of the hallway. Thea. Followed by heavier, careless footsteps. Roy. He tensed when Roy took a step in the wrong direction. During his forced survival training, Oliver had learnt how to identify a person by their footsteps. A lot could be said about a person based on the way they walked. Whether it was a man or woman, someone he was familiar with, what kind of mood they were in, how aggressive they were, if they suffered from any physical ailments…
Oliver sincerely hoped that Roy had the common sense to steer clear of him tonight. He'd had just about enough of Thea's uncontrollable boyfriend for one week. He was beginning to wonder if he'd seriously misjudged Roy. Had revealing his secret identity to the rebellious upstart really been unavoidable? Could he have found another way to access and destroy the earthquake machine without pulling his hood down and removing his mask in a last ditch attempt to tear Roy out of the murderous rage he had flown into? Had he been mistaken?
When Oliver turned over the idea of Roy blurting out his secret to Thea – inadvertently or intentionally – he felt a sick churning in the pit of his stomach. He'd basically already lost everyone that mattered to him. His father was long dead, his final resting place under a pile of rocks on that godforsaken island. Laurel hated his guts. His own mother was an unknown element in his life, and a potential threat to the honor of his family. And then there was Tommy… Poor Tommy. He couldn't bear to lose Thea too. If she ever found out what he did in his spare time… But was Roy truly capable of such a thing? Would he betray the trust of a man who had saved his life – twice?
"Roy?" Thea glanced over her shoulder when she realized that her faithful boyfriend wasn't at her side.
"Yeah. Coming." Roy took a left at the stair landing, physically wrenching himself in the opposite direction of where his instincts wanted to take him. He'd been struggling with bizarre urges all week, not entirely aware of them until his fists connected with flesh, or the sounds of sirens woke him from the nightmare that he continued to live in. He had taken on criminal after criminal, defying Oliver behind his back, until he'd grown sick of pursuing bottom feeders. Putting down the occasional burglar or drug dealer could not satiate his anger and brute strength. He needed a deadlier adversary to throttle in order to balance his temper. But the only way he could get his hands on a deadlier adversary was through Oliver.
For the third time since he'd met her, Roy entered Thea's bedroom and smirked when she gave him a suggestive look and locked the door behind him. Watching mysteries or horror movies had a peculiar affect on Thea; they sexually frustrated her. The first time they'd had sex, they'd been hesitant and careful. The second had been after a particularly nasty horror movie. They'd barely made it to the bedroom with their clothes intact before Thea had launched herself at him.
This time, Roy was prepared to show Thea who was in charge. She wasn't the only one who was horny as hell tonight. He reached for her as she playfully moved out of reach, urging him towards the bed. He sprang at her, knocking her onto the bed, and pinned her down, ravishing her with nips and kisses, which she throatily encouraged. His mouth covered hers, his eyes shuttering closed as he began to subconsciously block out the sound of her voice and the lightly perfumed smell of her skin. Instead, his mind began to conjure up an image, followed by a memory of that fateful night up on the rooftop where things had changed. The night he had followed Oliver despite being warned not to. He remembered Oliver's painful moan after the thug Bronze Tiger had stabbed the Arrow in the shoulder with his signature claw weapon. He hadn't been thinking when he'd wrenched Bronze Tiger away from the Arrow, pummeling him into the ground, blood spraying his knuckles and clothes. His only goal had been to make sure that that filth never hurt the Arrow again.
Muted shouts had called his name, but he'd ignored them, throwing punch after punch until he couldn't recognize what it was that he was hitting.
And then, the vocally distorted voice had changed. The deep, electronically scrambled voice of the Arrow had become more high pitched, more desperate. More human.
When Roy had looked up, confusion had waged war with the anger surging through his veins. He'd seen the tight, dark green leather outfit that the Arrow was fond of fighting crime in. But, it hadn't been the Arrow who was wearing it. It had been Oliver Queen. Rich boy - stranded on a deserted - useless, good-for-nothing Oliver Queen. Sure, Oliver had implored him to save Thea, to think about Thea. But from that moment on, Roy hadn't been able to think about anything but Oliver. How they'd stood face to face after the explosion. How nervous and embarrassed Oliver had appeared, having no choice but to confirm that he was indeed the Arrow and no, Roy was not hallucinating. After a bit of fidgeting on Oliver's part, Roy had put out his hand and Oliver had taken it. They'd shaken hands as a means of understanding, of an unspoken agreement. And Roy had leaned in to inhale the sweet, musky scent of Oliver's skin, exposed from the neck up. The movement had been too subtle for Oliver to catch onto, not that he would've suspected Roy of that sort of behavior in the first place. But, for Roy, it had been the beginning of something powerful that went beyond hero worship and respect.
Roy pulled away from Thea, his fingers detangling from her soft, wavy brown hair in a panic.
Thea tried to calm him, thinking that he was worried about her mother walking in on them. "My mother won't be home from her meeting for another two hours. You can relax."
"It's not that."
"Then, what is it?"
Thea had been nothing but kind and honest with Roy from the start, surely he owed her the same? Perhaps he could tell her that he was conflicted over his need to protect and destroy. She wouldn't be able to understand the extent of his powers because he couldn't tell her about the mira-kuru that he'd been injected with. But he might be able to hint at it without giving away too much. But what if she confided in Oliver and asked for his help, like she had a tendency to do on occasion? Oliver would feel betrayed and let down. Considering how far he'd pushed Oliver already, it wouldn't take much more than a hint of endangering Thea for Oliver to shut him out for good. And were his super powers the true cause of his wavering emotions, or was it Oliver himself?
Groaning in frustration, Roy climbed off of the bed and clenched his hands into fists. It was the only thing he was really good at doing. Even if he risked pissing Oliver off by talking about his feelings with Thea, it would still mean being dishonest with her. Truth be told, he didn't give a damn about accidentally putting criminals in the hospital. His strength was the furthest thing from his mind. What was really bothering him was how he was obsessing over his girlfriend's brother. Oliver wasn't his problem. Shouldn't be his problem.
"Roy? Talk to me." Thea rearranged her blouse and sat up properly on the bed, somehow knowing that this wasn't going to end the way she'd hoped.
"Oliver," Roy blurted out in a tone that was a cross between disbelief and accusation.
Thea blinked, studied Roy's reddening face, and swallowed hard. "What about my brother?"
"He's just… The way he… you know," he growled, feeling stupider when he couldn't make sense of his feelings or string a couple of words together.
"Um, actually, I don't know." Thea rolled her eyes and sighed a little louder than she'd meant to. "We were in the middle of something and you pull away to talk about Ollie. I've got to admit, I'm totally lost." Most women would probably be offended if their man had suddenly lost the urge before they'd even started. Thankfully, Thea was not most women. She was incredibly patient and understanding, especially when it came to Roy.
"I don't know what it is that I'm trying to say," Roy admitted, scratching at the back of his neck in annoyance.
"Try. It must be pretty important for you to be this wound up."
"It's just that… when I was kissing you," Roy tried to wrestle the words out of his mouth but he still wasn't sure what he wanted to say. He just kept seeing Oliver's face, drowning in those deep, soulful blue eyes. Wondering what it would be like to run his fingers through Oliver's short, dirty blond hair, grabbing him by it to hold him still. Still for what? Roy jerked his head to the side, forcing the images from his mind as his intense gaze locked with Thea's. Maybe it was the way he'd brought up Oliver and then trailed off about kissing Thea. Or maybe it was because he looked guilty as hell. Either way, the look of pure horror on Thea's face told him that there was no need for him to continue.
"You… You're into my brother?" She didn't look disgusted, just shocked and hurt, so Roy didn't attempt to deny it.
"I didn't intend to… It just happened. It's probably because of all the stress I've been under lately."
Thea made a muffled sound from behind her hand but said nothing.
"It's not like I would ever do anything about it," he insisted, placing his hands on her shoulders. "You just said that we should always be honest, that we should tell each other everything."
Thea moved her hand away from her mouth to gently but firmly brush Roy's hands away. "I think that you took that too literally."
"People go through these phases, right? That's what it is – a phase."
"And when you were kissing me, were you fantasizing about Ollie?"
"Thea," Roy protested.
"Just answer the question," she sniffed, wiping tears from her eyes. "And don't lie."
It took several minutes for Roy to answer, which was an answer in and of itself. Still, Thea waited patiently until Roy gave voice to the truth. "Yeah, I was. I'm sorry." He hung his head in shame.
"Roy, don't take this the wrong way, but could you please leave me alone? I really can't be around you right now."
"But…"
"You just told me that you were fantasizing about my brother while we were kissing. I think that you'll agree that leaving is the best thing you can do right now," Thea choked sarcastically.
"Okay," Roy agreed quietly. "I'll go, but please don't tell him."
A bitter laugh escaped before Thea could swallow it. "Oh, knowing you, Roy, I'm sure that you'll tell him all on your own. After all, you always get what you want."
Roy quickly left Thea's bedroom before her mild dismissal turned into something uglier. He was halfway down the stairs when the sound of a bedroom door opening brought him running back up them. However, it wasn't Thea's bedroom door that had opened. It was Oliver's.
(This story is kind of slow building but will pick up on the slash soon. What did you think of it so far? Is anyone interested in me continuing it?)