Based on this prompt by an Anon on Tumblr: "pre island Oliver seeing future Oliver with Felicity (kudos if you can include Moira, Tommy, Laurel or Thea from pre island)"
"What the fuck did we take last night?" Oliver groans, shutting his eyes in hopes the world will have stopped spinning by the time he opens them again.
"I don't know," Tommy replies, voice muffled because he's got his head buried in his arms where they're crossed on top of the table. He raises his head, eyes hidden behind sunglasses, and grimaces. "But remind me never to take it again."
"Here you go, boys," the waitress says, setting down a coffee in front of each.
"You're a saint," Tommy tells her, sliding off his glasses so he can better see the cream he's adding to the cup. He picks up a sugar packet and shakes it in his hand when the movement suddenly slows. Oliver looks up to find him squinting into the distance behind him, mouth hanging open.
"What?" he asks.
"Am I still high or are you standing over there?" he asks, pointing. Oliver turns to see what he's talking about and is shocked to find a man standing at the counter who could be his mirror image. Well, except this guy looks like kind of a dick as he stands rigidly straight, fingers working impatiently and a frown on his face that looks like it's taken permanent residence there. His hair is close-cropped and Oliver wouldn't be caught dead wearing a suit first thing in the morning unless he were leaving the house of a girl he met the night before.
"He looks nothing like me," Oliver says and turns back around, disliking the idea that he could turn into some uptight businessman like his father.
"Are you kidding me?" Tommy asks, giving him an incredulous look. "He looks exactly like you."
"Bullshit," Oliver says, waving his hand dismissively.
"Yeah, he looks like you 10 years from now," Tommy goes on. "Like you after Laurel finally cuts off your balls and forces you to 'get serious about your life,'" he says, mocking the lecture she gave Oliver before she stormed out of the party.
"Well, then he's definitely not me," Oliver replies, not appreciating the reminder that he and Laurel are on yet another break. "I'm never going to be able to convince her to take me back this time." The sharp ring of the bell above the door intensifies Oliver's splitting headache and he's about to take another restorative sip of coffee when Tommy whacks his arm, making it splash out of the mug onto his hand.
"Ow, damn it, what the hell?" he asks angrily.
"Looks like you're right about that one," he replies, pointing to the man again.
Oliver turns around just in time to see a pretty blonde with nice legs and glasses lean up to kiss his doppelgänger. The man smiles down at her when they separate and grabs a bag of food before walking out hand-in-hand with the girl, staring at her like he is thoroughly whipped.
"Good for you, man, she's hot," Tommy says with a smirk, hitting his arm again and making Oliver spill more of his coffee.
"Damn it," Oliver snarls, grabs a handful of sugar packet and then hurls them in Tommy's face.
"Hey," he says defensively and then picks up some sugar packets of his own. They spend the next few moments exchanging volleys until the exertion gives them both mind-numbing waves of nausea.
"Ugh," Oliver groans, head in his hands. "We have got to lay off the drugs from now on."
I've got two more drabbles coming in the next 24 hours so I apologize now for spamming the inboxes of those following this collection.