oliver sparks ☆ oliver queen. (nock) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2019-01-28 22:17:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, * kit, * terri, c: finnley sparks, c: oliver sparks |
WHO: Oliver Sparks & Finnley Parker
WHEN: January 1, 2019; After Midnight
WHERE: Their house!
SUMMARY: Oliver’s evasiveness comes to a head and he spills his secrets.
WARNINGS: Mentions of excessive scarring.
Looking back, Oliver was pretty happy with the fact that each year seemed to be getting even better than the last, especially since the year that Finnley had walked into his life. This year, though, had been the year where she had agreed to be in their lives permanently, that they’d found the home they’d have together, and it was also the year that Jonas officially got a mom. There were a lot of reasons that Oliver hadn’t even begun process that could have meant that 2018 wasn’t exactly perfect, but he couldn’t let himself think about those things when he was ringing in the New Year in the best way he knew how. With his--no, their--son dozing in the oversized chair while Oliver let the timer chime down until he could lean down and, with the first moment of the new year, kiss his future wife. It was moments like that that reminded Oliver how very real this life was, and how much he refused to let the other Oliver’s life take this one over. That wasn’t the only reason why his recent…changes terrified him--he thought that his body changing so drastically overnight would be terrifying even without the dreams to mess with his head, too. He still had yet to talk to anyone about what had happened and didn’t even know how to bring up the fact that he’d physically become his dream self overnight. Still, despite how much that was bothering him, he found it not hard at all to push his own fears and confusions aside to be present here and now with his little family that he loved so much. “Happy New Year, baby,” he said, leaning down to steal another quick kiss from her, holding her hands in his, an action that had become habit in the past few weeks to prevent her hands from discovering his secrets. He supposed secrets were something he had in common with his other self, too. -- It seemed the last year was determined to change most of the things Finnley knew about life and the world around her. There had been fantastic moments, and those that were a little lackluster. She had chosen to focus on the positive. Her sister was thriving and had graduated high school, setting off to her college career. Finnley had agreed to spend the rest of her life with Oliver, and they’d begun planning that life in earnest. From buying a house with Oliver to adopting Jonas, Finnley’s day to day life had changed dramatically in the last year. It was astounding, looking back on it, how much could happen in just twelve months, and in just a few more, they’d be married. It had been difficult not to notice, however, over the last few weeks things had changed yet again. Ever since Oliver had asked to expedite her adoption of Jonas, he’d been on edge. She had thought once things were official, he would relax. That hadn’t been the case. If anything, Oliver had seemed more distant than ever. He came to bed late and stayed on his side of the mattress when he did so, always fully dressed. He pulled away from her touch all too often, and seemed to try to keep her from reaching out to him. She was an observant and patient person. Being a counselor, she didn’t like to force people to talk about things until they were ready, but the longer this went on, the more concerned she was growing. Had she done something wrong? Or had Felicity? Was there something from a dream that he was trying to figure out how to forgive? Did he have second thoughts or sudden reservations about where they were headed? While these thoughts had plagued her for the last few weeks, she had held onto them. Tonight...felt almost normal. Oliver had been more present than he had seemed in a while, and she let herself cling to the hope that maybe he had come to terms with whatever was bothering him, “Happy New Year,” she echoed, pressing up onto her toes to assist in meeting him for that kiss. Finnley squeezed his hands gently where he had taken hers into his, but chanced pulling her grasp from his to wrap her arms around his waist and pull herself close to him, “Do you think it’s better to let Jonas sleep off this wild party in the chair or wake him up to go to bed?” -- In what he thought was a seamless move, Oliver gently took Finnley's and redirected them to wrap around his neck, instead. “I'll just move him to his room. I don't think he's outgrown me being able to pick him up yet,” he mused, closing his eyes as he rested his forehead against hers. It was absolutely the moments like this that meant the most to him, that he cherished entirely. This right here was what he'd wanted for so many years and he didn't know what he'd done to finally have the family he'd always envisioned. A part of him was still afraid, though, of losing it. He was all too familiar with unexpected losses in a normal day, and the part of his mind where Oliver Queen resided was too familiar with the kinds of losses only someone like the Arrow could know. But, again, Oliver fought to quell that part of his brain. He was here with Finnley, not elsewhere. Not in Star City. He smiled and opened his eyes again. “I'll get Jonas to bed and then I'm probably going to crash, myself. What about you? Coming to bed or staying up a little longer?” -- All she could focus on was the disproportionate body language he was showing her. She’d been rather physically affectionate since the beginning of their relationship, and he had never minded where she put her hands until the last few weeks. Of course, she didn’t want his consent of such things to be challenged, but when he was silently telling her certain things were not all right anymore, she had to question why. What had changed? He stayed close, and he seemed...engaged with her for the first time since early in the month. She tried to brush it off, and let herself hope. “I think I will come to bed, too,” she agreed after a moment of consideration, though she was hoping maybe she could entice him from crashing to staying up just a little while longer, “Take Jonas, and I can make sure everything down here is taken care of? I’ll meet you up there.” With one more brief kiss, Finnley gave a gentle squeeze to his shoulder as she shifted away. She did pause a moment there, before Oliver could move Jonas, to lean down and brush a kiss to his hair, whispering a goodnight there. She shot Oliver a smile and went about cleaning up the last of their dishes, turning off the television, and double checking the door locks. Though she hadn’t thought much about that before Felicity...it was a force of habit now. It took her only a few minutes to finish the cursory sweep of the first floor of the house. Climbing the stairs to the second floor, she padded the familiar path to her shared bedroom with Oliver and stripped down to little other than a tank top and underwear, as sleeping beside him usually kept her warm enough. Maybe it would be an enticement, too. -- It had never been too difficult for Oliver to lift Jonas. After all, he still stayed in shape to coach baseball and play in the occasional league, as well as with his general fitness and archery practice. As he scooped his son up into his arms, though, he knew that his strength was a different kind of strength, one that shouldn’t belong to him, one that another version of him had worked for. It was too easy now and he didn’t appreciate that. Still, he pushed it away to dwell on another day and carried Jonas up to his room, tucking him into the bed that had been made with comic book sheets that his son had practically begged for. With a small sigh, Oliver leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead, deciding that the boy would never be too old for such affections from his parents, and then let himself out of the room while closing the door behind him. In his own room, he was almost startled by the sight of Finnley in practically nothing. He stopped short, clearing his throat as he rubbed a palm over the back of his head. God, he loved her, whether she was bundled up for a snowstorm, or whether there wasn’t a shred of fabric between them. He loved every piece of her, every freckle, every dip and curve, and her smile--that smile could always undo him. And almost as much as he loved and needed his fiancee, he wanted her, always, regardless of the invisible walls that enclosed him now. But he couldn’t have her, not when he was hiding this huge secret from her, not until he figured out how to talk about it. It was torture forcing his feet to carry him to the other side of the bed where he stood to lean down and pull his socks off one at a time. “I told Mom we’d all be around for New Year’s lunch around one tomorrow, which I think means that neither one of us needs to set alarms for the first time in way too long,” he said, primarily as a way to distract himself from how much he wanted to say screw it all, cross back over to her, and remember what it was like to touch and be touched by her. -- She had taken up a nonchalant post there beside their bed, giving a distracted glance to her phone as an excuse as to why she wasn’t already bundled up in the covers. She had never had to overtly ask for Oliver’s affection before. It had always been freely given, and they’d always been on the same page with one another. Communication, honesty, and that innate feeling of certainty had all been things she had taken for granted over the last year because they never seemed to have to try for any of that. Now, it seemed, even with such a blatant advertisement of what she had to offer, he was willing - determined? - to ignore it. She had never been nervous to approach him before, but she was now. She was putting herself out there, and bracing for the possibility of rejection because that seemed more likely than her fiance actually wanting to even look at her without safe layers and distance between them, “You know…” she hedged, rounding the bed slowly, “we could stay up a little longer? Since we can sleep in tomorrow. It’s such a rare opportunity.” Though his broad back was to her, Finnley’s hands slipped to his sides, but it was a cautious move. She was uncertain, even as her hands touched the fabric of his shirt, almost holding her breath in preparation for his response, good or bad. -- Oliver’s breath hitched in his throat, every nerve ending in his body hyperaware of Finnley’s closeness after denying himself that proximity for weeks. He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply through his nose while his wants warred within him. He wanted the same things she wanted, and he always had. There was absolutely no question as to how much he did and even as his brain was telling him that he wasn’t ready to talk about this thing he still hadn’t begun to truly process, his body was responding to what his heart wanted, and that was to be close to the woman he loved, the woman he needed in his life--or any other life, for that matter. He turned toward Finnley and took her hands in his, bringing them up to press his lips against them. The corners of his lips took a subtle shift downward and he dipped his head to capture her lips with his own. It was a soft, tentative kiss, beneath which everything that he really wanted roared and rebelled. But, when he pulled back, clutching her hands in his and holding them close to his chest, he said, “I want to, baby, I do, but…” But, what? He was too tired? Had a headache? What excuse could he give this woman he was going to marry that was enough? “I don’t think I can,” he finished quietly, and even though he’d meant to extrapolate on that, or give her something that told her it wasn’t what he wanted to say, he left it at that. It was the most honest he’d been since the morning he’d woken up in the other Oliver’s body, and yet he knew it still wasn’t enough, still didn’t explain anything. He felt so helpless against the powers of the universe that had done this to him, though, and so terrified that he was becoming this other person who had no place in the life he’d built here in Dunhaven, that he was afraid to even begin speaking the words lest they consume him. How could he tell her that, when he thought about touching her, he hated the idea that he was no longer the one doing it, that those touches belonged to someone else and that there was nothing in his power that he could do about it? His body was no longer his own and that knowledge was slowly eating away at him. -- She thought for the briefest of moments that he was going to let her close for the first time in too long. Then, he turned to face her and immediately, her hands were moved. She caught a glimpse of that subtle frown even as he kissed her in that barely there, restrained way that she’d become too familiar with recently. She could almost feel everything that he was holding back from her. Finnley tried not to let disappointment and hurt settle into her bones when he held her hands there against chest. That but cut her, and she braced herself for a reason that she wouldn’t believe. She should have been respectful of his space and his needs, but as much as her training guided her in her job, sometimes she had to break away from that in her personal life, “Why?” The word was past her lips before she could stuff it back in, and though she wanted nothing more than to be closer to him, she knew he wouldn’t allow it so she withdrew, pulling into herself instead. Her arms crossed her chest, guarded and vulnerable in her current state. She didn’t try to hide the frown on her lips or placate him with assurances that it was OK. It wasn’t. Not because she demanded physical intimacy, but because she demanded honesty and communication. Her family had been so disconnected as she had grown up that she couldn’t stand the thought of living her life like that with Oliver. “Did...did I do something wrong? Or has Felicity?” She didn’t think he would take her alter-egos decisions out on her, no, but maybe it was something he was having a hard time getting past. Maybe she had said or done something that she hadn’t even known would push him this far away. When she spoke, she hated the way her voice had turned reedy and strained, “Every time I touch you, you pull away or you move my hands. Tonight felt almost normal for the first time in weeks, but it was still there. You sleep as far away as you can get from me while still being in the same bed, and you never used to sleep in full length pajamas. So what changed?” -- Oliver closed his eyes, trying to work through her questions and hope he could answer them. Every word out of her mouth hurt him more than he'd imagined they would--not because of what she was saying, but because he knew Finnley wasn't wrong and it was against his very nature to hurt her. Yet here he was, making her doubt herself, doubt them and how much he loved and wanted her because he didn't know how to handle what was happening to him. “Baby, no,” he started, opening his eyes once more to meet hers. “You've done nothing wrong and neither has Felicity. I'm pretty sure there's nothing you could do that would make me feel less toward you than I do right now because you are…everything, Finnley,” he said, wishing he'd never had to tell her that to begin with, that he hadn't made her doubt that, at all. Frustrated with his situation, he turned away and ran his hands over his head. “It's not you, it's…him. It's…” He walked off, pacing a few steps away before stopping and pacing back. “I don't…I changed, Finnley. And I can't fix it, I can't do anything about it. I don't know how to accept that.” Oliver knew he wasn't making any sense but, ultimately, he didn't even know how to make sense of this impossible, nonsensical thing. -- The pain in his own eyes seemed to match hers, but this wasn’t a conversation that they could avoid. His reassurances did help to soothe some of her own worries. She had needed to hear them after weeks of letting herself wonder otherwise. This was what happened when communication ceased. Both parties ended up strained in the process, and that wasn’t what Finnley wanted for their future together. Keeping her arms crossed over her chest, a small crease drawn between her brows as she watched him pace, Finnley listened to his halting words, “You changed how, Oliver? Other than you withdrawing from me, I haven’t noticed anything different. Talk to me, baby. Or...or show me.” She finally did uncross her arms, then, leaving herself more open...receptive, “Just don’t shut me out.” -- Oliver had been dreading this conversation, even though he knew that Finnley was right. He didn’t want to shut her out, he just didn’t want this to have ever been a thing he needed to share with her in the first place. His nostrils flared as he took in a deep breath. He had a choice to make and one choice would almost definitely be the start of the end of his relationship with this woman that he loved and he’d seen the other Oliver make that choice too many times with too many people in his life not to recognize the crossroads that he was at. But the thing was, the other Oliver had taken over his body without this Oliver’s permission. And, too often, he imposed himself on this Oliver’s mind without warning. This Oliver could not control any of that, couldn’t change or stop it. All he could do was choose the thing that kept this life his own, rather than letting the other Oliver make him make the same choices and the same mistakes. So he nodded, more in an attempt to sell himself on what he was about to do than in actual response to Finnley. Stepping back a few feet, he clenched and unclenched his fist, steeling himself to make the right choice. And then, before he could turn back and make the wrong one, he reached over his head, clutched the fabric of his shirt in his hands, and pulled it over his head, letting the shirt fall discarded to the floor by his feet. He didn’t look up at Finnley, wasn’t sure he wanted to see her initial reaction to his silent answers. His secret was out now, though, and there was no taking it back. -- Finnley didn’t know what to expect. She would fight for this relationship and the life that they had promised one another - one that they lived together in love, as Jonas’ parents - with everything that she had. He had to fight, too. He had to choose them. Their relationship had not been forged in the same kind of fires that Oliver and Felicity’s had been, but it was still strong. She had watched Felicity walk away before, and she hated it...she hated knowing that in some alternate universe, she could turn away from him...even if she did come back. She was not Felicity Smoak, and she kept her feet firmly planted, waiting for him to make his own choice. It was difficult for him. She could tell that from the set of his shoulders and the clench of his fists. His jaw was tense, his eyes avoiding hers. Nothing about this was right, but sometimes it took more pain to heal wounds. Maybe she shouldn’t ask him to reveal anything that he wasn’t ready to share, but if it would drive a wedge between them, they had to find some common ground. They couldn’t go on like this for forever. It seemed showing was the easiest route. She watched as he pulled that shirt off over his head, and for a split second, which she looked at him, she didn’t see anything abnormal. For that moment, she saw him through Felicity’s eyes, the very same man that she had loved before he had even received some of those scars. Finnley had known different, though. She had known him with little to no scars, and a softer turn to those now very-defined muscles. Every mark that Oliver Queen had ever endured was now carved into her Oliver’s body...the scars and tattoos alike, “Oh, Oliver…” Questions ran rampant in her mind, not just in relation to him, but for herself as well. Would this eventually go away? Would his body return to its normal self? How had the dreams manifested so physically in this world? Was her Oliver still fully here mentally, or had the change been more than just outwardly physical? Could she change in the same way? Could she...wake up one morning, and be unable to feel her legs? Would she become paralyzed, with no fancy spinal implant to fix her? She shook those things out of her mind, focusing instead on the now and, most importantly, on her very vulnerable fiance, “It’s still you in your mind and in your heart, Oliver. I’ve loved you forever, baby. In this world and that one. I don’t know how this happened...or if it will ever reverse, but you’re still the man that I chose to spend my life with.” -- “But that’s the thing, isn’t it?” Oliver countered, taking a step closer to Finnley without realizing he was doing it. He’d spent too long away from her. “What if he takes that from me, too? What if, one day, it’s no longer me waking up?” His hands rested against his hips as he pressed his lips together, his head tilting back as he looked up at the ceiling, at nothing. “I have worked so hard for this life,” he said, voice quiet. “It feels like it’s been a constant uphill battle from the moment we lost Dad. But I made it, you know? I made it here where it’s been easy and everything I have ever wanted for myself and for my--our--son. Did I just fight to lose it all, Finnley?” After a moment, he finally looked back at her, for once not hiding anything from her, not the scars and marks on his body, or the fear and frustration in his face. But also there was the intense amount of love for the woman who’d first let him try to come to terms with whatever had been bothering him, then pushed when he needed to be pushed, and still loved him even though he’d pushed her away, and changed in ways he couldn’t control. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he started, shaking his head. “I should have told you all of this. I should know better than keep important things from you. It’s like I have all of these lessons Oliver Queen should have learned in my head and here I am not learning them myself. I’m so sorry I made you doubt me, or us, or you, because if there’s anything that I am so completely sure of right now, it’s you, and it’s us.” -- “I don’t think that will happen, Oliver,” she assured him gently, though she knew there were no guarantees, “We dream of them, and maybe we carry them inside of us somehow, but I don’t believe that we - everything that makes us who we are - can be overridden. There’s obviously some...strange forces at work here that can do things like transforming you physically. I promise you that so long as I am breathing, we will not be lost to this. We’ll keep each other anchored, baby.” Finnley knew that Oliver Queen wasn’t a bad person. The part of her that was Felicity loved him just as deeply as she loved her own Oliver, but he was right. He had earned this life, and it should never be taken from him. She stepped a little bit closer, that distance between them slowly closing, but she didn’t reach out. Not yet. Even though she knew why he had been hesitant to have her touch him, she still didn’t know if his feelings on that matter had changed now. She didn’t want to make this harder than it already had to be, “All is forgiven. We just have to trust each other, Oliver. I am in this with you one hundred percent. No matter what changes happen in you or in me. For better or for worse, yeah? We’ll figure all of this out together.” -- The barriers between them felt like they were slipping away as easily as Oliver had allowed them to go up. It was in moments like this that he could see just how wrong he’d been not to talk to Finnley immediately. After all, even when he didn’t understand what was happening, it was easier to process when she was processing it with him than when he tried to do it alone. Life, in general, was easier with her as his partner and he was going to have to work harder at remembering the truth of that as he knew that nothing to do with Oliver Queen was bound to get better. Letting out a sigh that felt like releasing a month’s worth of worry and stress, Oliver took a tentative step forward and cupped his fiancee’s face in his hands. “You’ll never convince me that I deserve you, Finnley Parker. For better or worse,” he nodded, “I won’t keep things like this from you, again.” And then, unsure of what right he had to do it so soon after his confession, Oliver leaned down to kiss her, hesitating for a moment to ask, “Is this okay?” -- She hadn’t really expected the kiss, but when he leaned in and stopped, Finnley smiled softly, reaching up to slide a hand over his wrist, “This is perfect.” The assurance, and his initiation, was all the encouragement that she needed to press onto her toes and close that distance, her other hand tentatively reaching out to rest against his shoulder for balance. The matter of whether or not he deserved her wasn’t really a question to her. She chose him, and he was a better man than she thought he often imagined himself to be. The same was true of both Olivers. All she really needed was that promise from him, and the faith that he would hold to it. Each of them were learning lessons from their counterparts. Finnley knew not to let Felicity’s doubts poison her...to let nothing tear her away or make her lose out on time with Oliver. She would never take that time for granted. Moments like these were when she felt truly alive. -- As quickly as it had gone up, the wall between them crumbled to nothing as her lips met his and it was an altogether different kiss than the ones he’d given her while he’d still been holding back. Oliver kept one hand cupping Finnley’s cheek, but the other arm moved swiftly around her, lifting her up as he pulled her closer to him. He’d so desperately needed this closeness from her and he’d been the only one denying himself of having it. He still wasn’t sure what having this new body meant, or what it could mean for others, like Finnley, if this could happen to him. But he was back in Finnley’s arms and her touch was all he needed to quiet his concerns and uncertainties for now. “Alright,” Oliver murmured against her mouth, “I think now it’s time for bed.” |