Ollie Queen Has An Arrow For That (acearcher) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-05-20 00:44:00 |
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Current mood: | calm |
Entry tags: | !complete, oliver queen (green arrow), roy harper (red arrow) ii |
"...Blueberry or chocolate chip?"
Who: Roy and Oliver
When: Sunday Morning
Where: Clint’s House/Talon Ridge
What: Breakfast and a conversation. They Finally Make Up!
Warnings: Swearing and stuff. Oliver Being An Adult.
Triggers: DIscussion of past violence, shooting, death, neglect, etc. Death of Clint's ugly tablecloth.
First the conversation with Alma had reminded Roy he had people he could go to when he needed them, even if he didn’t think he did, and then the valarnet conversation with Castiel had lead Roy to one conclusion and one conclusion only. His life these last two weeks had really gotten out of hand, he was at least a little crazy, and...he really needed to make things better with Ollie.
Everything he’d blamed the guy for, well, it really wasn’t his fault after all. Roy knew that, and he sort of hated it, and hated himself for doing that, for attacking Ollie, on the basis of a dream he hadn’t even told him about, and for all the shitty things he’d said and done this time. He was pissed about what he’d done to Clint too, but Clint could take it, he decided. Well, okay, he hadn’t seen Clint in the actual house for about a week now, but he figured that was more down to Oliver than him, after all the guy still talked to him at practices. Still, he probably should clear up both issues as soon as possible. It was just...hard to know where to start, he decided, when he woke up Sunday in Clint’s bed again.
He’d probably smell something good in the air. Oliver was making breakfast for a try again attempt with Roy. At this point, he’d settle for something that was even open hostility from the kid, just to get him talking again, but, considering how Roy had avoided him, and hadn’t so much as eaten at home, well, Clint’s home, in the two weeks they’d been here, yeah. He had his doubts it was going to work.
But it was Sunday, damn it, Oliver had no meetings to run to, no anything else set up, and he was determined to at least get Roy’s interest perked somehow. So that meant he’d gone out early to the really nice grocery store, stocked up on what of Clint’s stuff he’d used up during the week, and picked up a couple other things he thought he’d need. The upside of this was that there was now bacon scent flowing through the air, and batter waiting in a bowl.
When Oliver heard the shuffling noises from Clint’s bedroom, he walked over there and knocked briefly.
“Hey Roy!” he called, like this was any ordinary Sunday when they’d been living together. “Pancakes!”
“Go Away! I don’t want...” Roy started, then he stopped himself, and actually thought about it. He’d been wanting to at least make some parts of this better, and it looked like one of those shots that he’d been given. Could Castiel have been praying for something like THIS? It was probably just some weird kind of coincidence, but...Roy was probably supposed to take it anyway, in the grand scheme of things, so he didn’t finish up with the angry dismissal and took a deep breath as he pushed open the bedroom door.
“...Blueberry or chocolate chip?” He asked, hopefully.
“Actually,” Oliver flashed him a smile, even though he was a little worried at how much of a wreck Roy was the closer that he looked at him. Sure, his arms and chest were still defined enough, but Roy was thin, thinner than he’d remembered, and he seemed taller too, like he’d grown too much for his body to keep up with his height in the last couple of years.
He’d spent some time out on the streets, Oliver remembered, and he swallowed back on the guilt he felt about that one for now. He was going to just...try to play this normal and seque into an apology instead. “I made both. Decided to mix them.” he said, grinning. “And there’s bacon, melon if you want to be totally boring, come on.” he urged, leading the way. “You’ve been subsisting off of what? McDonald’s lately? You know about the pink slime, right? ”
“...Yes, Oliver.” Roy actually did roll his eyes and bit off a little laugh as he followed his godfather out to Clint’s kitchen where. “Oh fucking HELL, Clint’s gonna kill you if he ever comes back.” Because the kitchen, for all that it had been restocked? Looked like an Earthquake had ripped through it and then the aftershock. “What have you been DOING all week?”
“Chili.” Oliver said, as if that meant a lot. “Also soup, a few pasta things. Check the freezer if you’re really curious. I even labeled everything.” he added with a grin. “It’s...nice having somewhere to cook again. “ he said, pointing Roy towards a chair as he went ahead and started to pour batter on a griddle he had bought this morning for this purpose. “I’m a little out of the habit with just me around.”
And he sounded, well, almost guilty himself, Roy thought, blinking as he went ahead and grabbed some coffee before sitting down, ignoring the little frown that Oliver shot his way. So what? He was a grown up now. He still did what he wanted. ...Okay, so that included about three sugars added in, but still. Afterwards, he sipped contentedly, and waited a minute to say something, or for Ollie to, or...something anyway.
What had Castiel said, one thing at a time? He decided he’d go with that and cleared his throat. “Uh Oliver, about what happened when you came out here at all.” He said, eyes darting a little. He wasn’t able to look at him at all for this, and wondered why. He thought that he’d stopped caring what Oliver thought long ago, but apparently...apparently that wasn’t the case. Or maybe the apology just went that way in general for him. Either way, he stared down at the table and the bowl of melon, concentrating on popping a couple,then some bacon on his plate.
“I was kind of...not myself.” Roy said at last. “I mean, I know that I attacked you, think I made you bleed, but well, there’s something that I have to. ...You were hunting me.” he said at last, again to his plate and not to Oliver. “I had this dream and...you were shooting at me, other people chasing me, for something that I’d done. I didn’t... It’s hard to deal with when it’s something like that.” He finished up quietly. “And after...I’ve been running from you for so long...”
“It’s scary when I finally do show up?” Oliver nodded, casually flipping one pancake, then another. “I get that, kid.” he said at last, watching the batter slowly bubble up around the melted butter. “I didn’t know it was a dream like THAT. That’s...not the one that you were telling Barton and...” he shook his head. “If I’d known, maybe I could have, helped somehow or...” He shrugged.
“Maybe not but it would have been nice to try and help you. Even though you walked out, Roy, you’re still family you know.” he added, watching as the pancake bottoms slowly turned to gold, then plopped them on a plate and carried them over before sitting down next to the kid, instead of from across him. “Here, dig in.” He added, hoping the addition of food, when Roy had to be starving would at least get him off his guard enough to look at him.
“I...yeah...” Roy muttered, and forked a pancake over onto his plate. He didn’t think that he was hungry but he didn’t want to waste the effort either, and he didn’t want to make things any worse than they already were, so he opted for polite instead of what he really wanted. “I know you said that and I...” He glanced away and frowned. “Look, you don’t have to be nice to me, you know. I mean, I know that I’m a fuck-up. We can say it.”
“Roy...” Oliver didn’t know what he’d done to cause, well, this. Sure, he’d gotten a little out of hand after walking on Roy’s impromptu school night party when he’d gotten in early from out of town, but he had never meant for him to take what he’d said then to heart. “I didn’t mean...”
“You said...” Roy repeated, the words ingrained in his brain. “That you weren’t going to have me hang around and be a fuck up who destroys his life. Well, Oliver,” he looked up now, his eyes shadowed with something almost like pain. “I became that fuck up. Couch surfed until school was over. Then...” he shrugged. “I’ve been around.”
Oliver’s fork paused from where he was about to shove a huge forkful of blueberry and chooclate chip pancake in his mouth,and syrup dripped from his fork and dribbled onto Clint’s ugly plastic tablecloth. In his defense,the thing featured pictures of Santa Claus and Snowmen and needed thrown out anyway, so he wasn’t ruining anything GOOD of Clint’s. But in the moment, he was too focused on the kid next to him anyway.
“Hey.” he said, and reached over to ruffle Roy’s hair, the way he’d done it before. “Roy, come on. That’s not the story I got from Barton. Not all of it.” he amended quickly. “Yeah, you ran away, and you lived out here, on the streets for a long time. I know.” he added. “And you turned that around, got a shit job and paid your dues, and now you’re teaching archery and counseling troubled kids at that ranch of yours. It isn’t like you’re shooting cocaine in the basement of some cheap dive somewhere or making bastards.”
“Aren’t those both a little more, I don’t know, you?” Roy asked him, joking, in a way that showed he wasn’t at all serious or trying to insult him. It had been a while since he’d been able to use that tone. “I still. I’ve seen things Oliver. I mean...I’m not entirely innocent in all of the shit that’s going on in L.A, you know? I’ve been a part of it. And I treated you like shit.” He added, not even touching the pancake on his plate, but poking at it instead. “I’m still treating you like shit when all you want to do is help and...”
“Roy.” Oliver cut in, holding his hand up so the kid would hopefully shut up. “I’m going to admit to something here that I did in this whole thing if that helps. I practically drove you out that night. And then I didn’t even go after you. Hell, I didn’t SEND anybody after you. And you were BARELY seventeen. I shouldn’t have...legally that wasn’t right. And your parents...well, I don’t think they picked me as your godfather thinking I was going to do that. I didn’t...I was tired, it had been a long string of meetings and I shouldn’t have said the things I did. And then I let this thing go on until...” he settled for just shaking his head.
“So, really, kiddo, I’m just as wrong in this as, more wrong actually, than you, if we want to go and assign blame to anybody. Which, really, you SHOULD.I deserve that.”
“I wanted to be pissed at you.” Roy muttered, now smushing a blueberry just to see the juice ooze out and stain the pancake purple. “I really, really did. I let myself be pissed at you, and hurt, for a long time. You know, that’s how I found my way here.” he might as well admit it. “I thought that maybe if...if I could get to Royal Bowmaster, outshoot you at some event, if not this year, then next, that I could see you again as an actual adult and prove that....you were wrong about me.” Roy finished, eyes downcast again. “Of course, that was about six weeks after I got shot the second time, and then I kind of got a slash, which pissed Clint off, but...that’s the whole reason they hooked me up with him. Because I got back into archery to prove something to you.”
He snorted. “Stupid now, considering what I’ve proved.”
“You’ve grown up.” Oliver countered. “You’ve become one of those self made men, Roy. I can’t say that’s stupid. “ He shook his head. “You got yourself out of the shadow I was too dickheaded to realize I was keeping you in, and... You were SHOT?” he echoed, pulling away and frowning. “When and how and I hope you pressed charges?!”
“There’s a record. You can check with the cops if you’re curious.” Roy shrugged at Oliver instead of really answering. “It...reasons.” he explained. “Something I had to do and I got caught in the way of some bad business. It’s healing really well.” he added. “I didn’t even have to miss much practice. I had a bitch of a therapist for a while but it’s better, I swear. Everything is fine now. Physically. I’m even shooting in a couple weeks.”
“Clint mentioned...I know he was going to give you the box I sent...” Oliver started, then he paused, a little awkwardly. “Uh...I wasn’t supposed to involve him in that but uhm...I might have dropped him a couple of emails.” he muttered, eyedarting a tiny bit. “And I thought, well, maybe what was in it...I don’t know what your new colors are. But...”
“I actually still have it somewhere around here.” Roy eyedarted. “I couldn’t. I mean...when I saw where it was from, I didn’t want. And remind me to kill Clint for that .” he muttered, frowning. “I didn’t want for you to be involved Oliver. Not until I was winning. Until you could see that I...”
“I did see some videos that Barton has. Not then, but here. His computer’s really easy to hack into by the way.” Oliver grinned at him. “Password’s his girlfriend’s name. And watching the footage he’s got on here, Roy, I’ve gotta say, you’re getting even better. Hell, in my expert opinion, kid, you’re right on par with me. You’re maybe better now.”
“Bullshit, Ollie.” Roy shook his head, but he was smiling now. “That’s total bullshit and you know it.” Then he paused, deciding to take the chance since Oliver didn’t seem pissed at him right now, and since, well, all of it was coming out right now. “You don’t hate me now, do you? For uh...doing what I did and all of it? Because I might have meant it but it was all heat of the moment and I’m sorry and I don’t want it to end like in the in the dream I had. I mean, you hunting me down, with a lot of your friends helping because of something I’ve done wrong. I never meant to...I just...” Roy’s voice shook as he tried to describe the moment, and just failed instead and started shaking.
“Oliver, don’t hate me.” he finished on a quiet, plaintive note, almost, but not quite in tears. “I don’t want, not like this. At least let me have really earned it, okay? I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m really hungry and I...”
Oliver was up and out of his chair, and slipping around to give Roy a sideways hug right when the shaking started, and tugged the boy, young man, now, he thought, surprised, against him into an even tighter hug now. The kind of hug he’d given him whenever he’d been hurt, when they’d both lost Roy’s parents, when he’d been confused or scared or...anything. It didn’t matter that Roy was nineteen now and quite grown up. If he needed his godfather, Oliver was more than ready to oblige. He hadn’t done enough of it obviously, so... He just held onto Roy for now, and started rubbing his back, trying to keep him calm. Too bad it wasn’t working all that well as Roy let the last couple of years, and everything finally rush over him and explode and Oliver was just left to hold onto him and to try to promise him it’d be okay.
“I’m here.” he said simply. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere this time, Roy, and you’re not getting away from me, okay? We’re going to fix it. I can make it better.” He hoped to God that it was true. He would give anything to MAKE it true.
“Look, we’re gonna get this fixed, okay?” He continued, when Roy seemed to take a minute between shaking to actually breathe a little. “I don’t know what that involves when it comes to the freaky dreams and you not trusting me anymore but, I promise I’m not going to...I couldn’t hate you ever, Roy, okay? How could you think that...Look running away, all of this? It’s...” he tried to think of what to say about it. “It isn’t over for you, obviously, but it’s not gonna be an issue NOW, okay? “
Roy felt a little calmer, so he nodded, and then pulled himself away from Oliver, grabbing at the edge of the table cloth to rub his eyes. Hey, it was relatively clean even if it had been there for a while so it was also fair game. “Okay...” He managed at last, and got a smile from Oliver in return.
“Good.” his godfather agreed. “Now, wash your face and eat your pancakes. I’ve got to get this kitchen clean before Barton comes back.”