#i hope im wrong and he was just chilling in the Mists waiting room with other people | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reesewestonarchive · 5 years

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chapter six / rem belongs to @forlornraven / masterpost / mature content

The van idles in the parking lot when Nakoa wakes. Rem’s nowhere to be found, until Nakoa peers out the window of the motel room and sees him setting their bags in the back, a cigarette stuck out of his lips.

Nakoa pulls from the window, stretches his arms above his head.

Waits for Rem to come back, and when he does, he takes one look at Nakoa and says, “You ready?”

“For /what/?” Nakoa’s ready to settle down. Get a job in some bullshit city that won’t ask his age. Rem can…

Well, maybe if he’s happy, he…

“Next leg of the trip.” He pulls the cigarette from his mouth, stubs it out on the bottom of his shoe. “You wanna get dressed?”

Right now, he wants another fucking nap.

“I’ll blow you,” Rem says, with a raise of an eyebrow, and Nakoa snorts. There’s no fucking way Rem wants to get out of here that quickly. “If we go.”

“Yeah fucking right,” Nakoa says.

But Rem steps forward and pulls Nakoa against him by the hem of his t-shirt. Tucking his fingers into the waistband of Nakoa’s pants, he says, “No. Hey.” He tugs at Nakoa’s collar, a smile tugging at his lips. Nakoa thinks about kissing him. He doesn’t. “I’m serious.”

Nakoa looks from Rem’s lips to the van outside. “Where are we going?”

“Oregon, maybe. Why not Canada? Or Mexico. Check out some of their beaches.” Rem grins. Draws Nakoa in for a kiss, and he tastes like coffee and creamer, sweet and smooth.

Like a different guy, but… fuck, Nakoa’s used to this. Rem gets freaked out by something, says a bunch of jackass shit, and Nakoa handles it poorly. It’s not like this thing between them’s easy. Nakoa doesn’t understand it himself, most of the time. Nakoa’s never wanted as much as he wants with Rem, and… that’s terrifying. To imagine the future and want someone by his side.

“What happened?” Nakoa asks, when his eyes are still closed and Rem pulls away, just slightly. “With the blood.”

Rem goes tight under Nakoa’s fingers. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Tough shit. You’re going to.” Nakoa pinches him, under the arm, and Rem yelps, scowls at him.

“Might have some prick on my tail. Don’t worry about it.”

Don’t worry about it. “You nearly beat the shit out of my dad when he hit me last year,” Nakoa says, trying to contain his frustration and failing, “but the second I want to make sure you’re okay—”

Rem pulls away. “It’s not the same. Come on, in the car. You can drive.” He flashes a smile, mischievous, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Rem.” Nakoa flattens his voice, steps backwards so Rem’s presence isn’t quite so intoxicating, so he can think through the fog in his head. “I’m serious.”

Rem sighs, runs a hand through his hair. “It’s fine. Can you calm down? I’m not some fucking damsel in distress. I can take care of myself—”

More than he had the other night, Nakoa wants to leave. Let Rem fend for himself, see where that gets him. But then, he imagines Rem lying on the side of the road, or in some dark alley next to a liquor store, and— “Why are you so afraid of this?” he asks, thinks about gesturing between the two of them, really nailing down what he’s talking about.

A dark look passes Rem’s face, before he says, “Because I don’t want you involved.” Nakoa expects him to leave—it looks like it. “You don’t need to get caught up in my bullshit anymore than I should be caught up in yours.” Nakoa wants to tell him that he likes to be, that he likes knowing Rem’s fine, that if he could help, he would. And now that it’s them against the world, two of them on the road alone, each other is all they have. But Rem doesn’t let him, says instead, “We have fun together, right?”

And any hope burns to ash in Nakoa’s chest. He tastes it on his tongue when he says, “Yeah. Fun.”

Bowie plays on the stereo in the car, and Nakoa hears it from miles away. He thinks of what Rem said in the motel room; fun. That’s what it started as; is that all it will ever become for Rem?

Desire breeds warm and heavy in Nakoa’s stomach, sated temporarily by sex, but more often Nakoa just… wants. A longing feeling when he sees Rem singing along to the radio, when Rem moans—a different one when Nakoa touches him than the one he makes when eating pancakes, but neither less arousing than the other.

The goofy grin when he teases Nakoa.

He wants. Maybe the two of them will never own property, will spend their lives on the run from Nakoa’s shithead of a father, from the people Rem hustles for money to survive, but that’s a better end than wasting away in Withervale.

Nakoa should tell him. He should find a way to say the words without scaring Rem off, to say without expectation what he wants.

But then, he wants Rem. Is it not better to have what pieces of himself Rem will offer?

“What are you doing?”

Rem’s voice is scratchy with sleep. His eyes bloodshot from a twelve hour drive, and Nakoa’s knuckles hurt from where he has been pressing against play, pause, record for two hours, listening to the radio.

Fuck. Nakoa rips off his headphones, says, “Nothing. Why?”

Rem raises an eyebrow, says, “Come on. Come to bed.”

Bed tonight is the mattress in the back of the van. Nakoa’s money sits safely in the locked glovebox, but it’s dwindling. They’re close to Oregon, now, Disney just a pipe dream, but Rem keeps pulling off to look at the wildlife. To stop in gift shops. To tug Nakoa around randomly in tourist traps.

Nakoa might revel the attention, if he thought it would lead anywhere.

In Rem’s hand hangs a bottle of whiskey, capped, but when Rem leans down to press a kiss to Nakoa’s lips, he tastes sober. Like toothpaste.

Nakoa chases Rem’s mouth with his own when he pulls away. Rem smirks. His gaze lingers on the tape recorder. “This for me?”

“Fuck off,” Nakoa says. He’d picked up the tape recorder in a pawn shop for a few bucks, one night, and a pack of blank tapes, too. He’s tossed out one shitty mixtape once already, to throw Rem off his tail, to keep him from immediately suspecting. Kind of counterintuitive—the whole point of the mixtape is so Nakoa doesn’t have to say anything—but it calms the anxiety some. That tape had a bunch of Madonna and Bon Jovi, interspersed with just enough of what Rem likes to keep him from telling Nakoa to fuck off and replace the mix with something else.

But it’s hell, finding songs for him. It’s a fucking nightmare. Nakoa has two, right now; a Queen song and a Bowie song, and it feels like the damn thing is never going to be completed. There are a million songs out there, but they’re too cheesy. Too fast, too slow, too cheap, too cliche. Whatever Nakoa’s looking for, he hasn’t found it yet.

Rem’s hand is cold in Nakoa’s, though. There’s a chill to the air, but Rem is warm when he pulls Nakoa against him, brushes his lips against Nakoa’s hair, and laughs as he says, “You need a fucking shower.”

“Rich, coming from you.” Not that Nakoa minds; or not that he can say anything about it. They both need showers, water pressure better than what by-the-hour motels have to offer. Some fucking soap.

Nakoa hums under his breath, already trying to budget out what they’ll need. He can’t.

“What are you humming?” Rem asks. His breath is warm against Nakoa’s ear, his arm a pleasant weight over Nakoa’s waist. It’s been a few days since they’ve fucked. Rem’s been going, too much, switched on too often. Nakoa jerks him off in the van, sometimes, on open stretches of road, sometimes Rem returns the favor, but Nakoa’s getting restless.

That was the beauty of Withervale, Nakoa thinks. The opportunity to do whatever the fuck they wanted, whenever. And it’s not like they couldn’t pick any town they pleased, settle in, but the call of the open road sounds like the call of a siren, to Nakoa; irresistible.

“Sounds like Queen,” Rem says.

“Good ear.”

“Mm.” Rem’s voice is already drifting. Nakoa waits until Rem’s breathing evens out, sneaks back out to where the recorder sits on the old picnic table next to the van.

It’s dawn sooner than Nakoa expects, and there’s a vicious crick in his neck that throbs and burns when he moves his head.

But, after searching through multiple tapes, through radio stations, through mixtapes… Nakoa’s finished.

He clears his throat. Hits stop on the recorder, then hesitates, his finger over the record button again. He could say it, here. Tell Rem everything he wants to say, even though words are meaningless. It’s easy to recognize that, with Rem. The amount of things that just happen, the words that fall from Rem’s mouth.

Nakoa shoves the tape in the stereo of the van, and crawls back onto the mattress. Rem’s breathing is still slow and steady.

He doesn’t move towards Nakoa in his sleep, so Nakoa does it instead. Presses himself against Rem’s side and curls against him. Nakoa breathes him in, stretches his legs, and passes out.

He wakes to Freddie Mercury singing over staticky, broken speakers, quiet, barely audible. Nakoa stretches his arms over his head, yawns, and sits up.

Rem’s behind him, hands in his lap, picking at the last few remnants of his nail polish from his nails. Nakoa makes a mental note to pick some up, if he can find any.

Nakoa watches him, for just a moment, head tilted to the side, before Rem says, “I like this one.”

His heart swells. A grin grows on his face. “Yeah?”

Rem says nothing, though. Just starts the van, puts it into gear, and drives.

Mist surrounds them, casts the road and woods in an eerie, romantic fog, and Nakoa listens as the tracks change from one to the next, discordant in genre but similar in theme.

Rem laughs when The Scorpions play, taps his fingers against the wheel, and Nakoa feels his heart sing along with the lyrics.

When the tape ends, Nakoa takes a deep breath into the silence, his breath loud in the empty space between them. Rem says nothing, seeming content in the quiet. Nakoa wants to fill the silence, somehow, but all the words feel wrong, now. The tape has already said everything he wants to say to Rem, more eloquently, more concise.

But the miles pass, and Rem says nothing. More miles pass—and he says nothing.

Nakoa resigns himself to nothing, disappointment growing in him like a wild beast, untamed and unmanageable. He bites at his fingernail. Lights a cigarette and takes two drags before he puts it back out.

Still, Rem says nothing.

So neither does Nakoa.

#road to nowhere au #my writing #zzz

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pinkletterday · 6 years

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A Stitch In Time Ch1

Pairing: Oliver Queen/ Barry Allen

Rating: Mature

Tags: canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, so much angst, some bad jokes, Oliver Queen' trauma conga line, Oliver and Iris friendship, alt Arrow Season 3, untagged plot twist.

Summary: Oliver hadn't expected his world to come crashing down when he had sent his boyfriend off to see the Particle Accelerator launch. All he can do now is hold on to faith as Barry sleeps on - until he witnesses a miracle.

He should have known that even miracles come at a price.

Chapter 1

Read on AO3

Oliver knew it was a bad idea to start necking in public view at the metro station but he couldn't help himself. They were lucky it was late and the other stragglers waiting for the eleven pm train were few. Besides, this was the last taste and feel of his boyfriend he was going to get till New Year's and he already looked unfairly adorable in his peacoat with his windswept hair.

"You are so bad at getting rid of me," Barry laughed as Oliver kissed his way down his jaw.

"Yes," he murmured, licking the shell of Barry's ear, pleased at the shiver it elicited, "that's clearly what Im trying to do."

"Cant stand the sight of me already, huh?"

Oliver cupped his face and kissed him deeply. They were both panting when he drew away, thumb tenderly brushing the kiss-swollen lips. "You have no idea."

Their breath misted between them as leaned their foreheads together. "Mmm. This is a terrible plan," Oliver grumbled. "I hate sleeping without you."

"Hey, It's just for a few days," Barry pecked his lips soothingly. "Should be enough time to break the news to Joe about who I'm dating -"

" - I'm sure he'll be thrilled -"

" - and smooth things over so that when you fly in to meet him at New Year's, he'll be willing to give you a chance," Barry grinned at him. "I mean, he'll grunt and glare and do his whole cop Dad routine but he won't -"

" - go for his gun?" Oliver deadpanned.

"Don't be so dramatic," said Barry, pulling him firmly in by his coat lapels. "Joe's not unreasonable, just protective."

Oliver quirked a brow. "You forget. I have some experience with dating the kids of cop Dads."

"True," Barry nodded solemnly, "but your experience is coloured by having dated both kids at once."

"Touché," Oliver conceded, "I'm sure that will be a point in my favour when it comes up."

Barry titled his head, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Are you actually afraid, Mr. Scourge of Starling City?"

"Is that my new nickname? Shame, The Arrow was kinda cool."

"No, but seriously," said Barry, entwining their fingers in reassurance. "You have nothing to be afraid of. My Dad likes you and so does Iris. You'll win over Joe too, in time."

Warmth suffused him, as it always did, at the unwavering faith in his lover's eyes, banishing the winter chill. He raised their interlocked hands and pressed a kiss on Barry's knuckles, reflecting that softness back at him. "I hope so. I want to be someone you can take home to your cop Dad."

"You should have thought of that before starting a career in vigilanteism," said Barry dryly.

"Definitely a misstep, I see that now," Oliver nodded.

They grinned at each other, insulated from the night's chill in their own small pocket of warm happiness, surrounded by the sludge and sleet of the city. A tendril of fear curled in Oliver's chest, some part of him still paranoid and disbelieving that he got to have this at all.

He cradled the side of Barry's face, protectiveness rising. "Be careful," he told him seriously.

"Of what? Central is not the crazy town full of masked criminals and crimefighters," Barry rolled his eyes and raised a brow pointedly at him. "Besides, it's a little rich coming from the man who nearly coded in the Arrow Cave two nights ago. You're the one who needs to take better care of yourself."

"If I do, will you stop calling the foundry that?," said Oliver, resigned.

"Nope," Barry kissed the palm that cupped his cheek, eyes dancing.

Something of the lingering worry must have shown in his eyes however. His partner's face softened. "Don't worry, Oliver. I'm just going to watch Harrison Wells give a speech, witness the revolution of science as we know it and then go home with Iris and eat Joe's Christmas turkey. What kind of trouble could I possibly get into?"

The distant rumble beneath their feet announced the arrival of the train. "Barry Allen, if there's one thing I've learned about you over the past year," he said, a wry smile tugging at his mouth, "it's that if there's trouble to be had, you'll find it."

...

He was on the island again, stones scraping and bloodying his bare feet as he scrabbled up the rocky slope from the beach. Barry grinned at him in excitement from above. "Oliver, hurry up! We have to catch the man in the lightning!"

Storm clouds menaced from overhead and dread sank deep into his bones. He tried to climb faster with little progress. "Barry, it's not safe!" he yelled, but the wind that buffeted his face carried his words away. "Wait for me!"

Barry merely waved and disappeared over the hill. Oliver belly-crawled to the top to see him running through the trees, too far for him to ever catch up, but he had to try.

"Barry, please!," he called as he ran, jumping over tree roots, struggling to keep him in his sights as the driving sheets of rain obscured his vision. Thunder split the air, drowning his cries and Barry continued to out-pace him, his carefree laughter ringing eerily throughout the forest.

Something caught his foot and he tripped, falling face-down in the mud. He twisted around, trying to free himself, and came face to face with Shado.

She had emerged half-way from the earth, covered in mud and silt, her once-beautiful face sunken and waxy in death. "You left me to rot," she spat at him, "now you're going to stay with me."

He twisted and kicked out in horror but her grip was a vice around his ankle. Lightning speared down from the sky, striking the tree above him with a deafening crack. He rolled out of the way in time to avoid the enormous branch that crashed to the ground, crushing Shado back into the earth. "No!" he cried. He had never meant her to die again.

Lightning flashed once more and suddenly Slade stood over him, a huge sword pointed at his chest. An arrow was potruding out of one eye, blood streaming down his face. "You killed her, kid," he snarled. "You killed her again.

His elbow sank into the silt as he scrambled backwards - and then the rest of him was also sinking, trapped. "Oliver!" Barry's voice echoed above him as the bog dragged him down, the rain pelting into his mouth, choking him, "Oliver!"

"Oliver. Wake up."

He shot upright with a gasp, hand ready to land a nerve-strike to the other person's neck a split second before he recognized Iris. Trying to calm his breathing, he put his hand down slowly, heart juddering against his ribs.

The hospital room was dark except for the light above the bed, illuminating Barry's unconscious form, the quiet only broken by the steady beep of the heart monitor and the susurration of the ventilator. Iris was eyeing him in concern, dark curtain of hair brushing his arm as she leaned over him.

"Hey," Oliver rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Eight. Dad'll be back soon. I came straight from work. Did you eat anything?" she asked briskly, bustling around the room.

Oliver shrugged, wincing at the now-permanent kink in his neck. "Grabbed something from the hospital cafeteria. Surprisingly good pudding cups."

She gave him an unimpressed look and handed him a Jitters pastry bag. He stuffed a croissant into his mouth gratefully.

"Have the doctors been? Anything new?" She leaned over Barry worriedly, pushing his hair back from his face as though searching for signs of change.

"Not since you called this afternoon, no."

She sighed, then forced a bright smile. "So," she said, dragging a chair beside him. "Did you two have fun today?"

"Oh, yeah. We had a busy morning," said Oliver, forcing an answering brightness in turn, "I helped the nurse give him a bath and a shave. Don't get me wrong, I love the man, but scruff is not a good look on him," he shook his head ruefully.

Iris giggled. "Yeeah. Barry just can't grow facial hair. It's the bane of his life," her grin turned wicked. "Did he tell you about the time he came home from college with a moustache?"

"No, really?" Oliver snorted in surprise.

"It was awful. He looked like a used car salesman from the seventies," she said in glee. "Dad and I couldn't keep a straight face. He was so mad!"

He put his pastry down to look seriously at her. "Please tell me you have pictures."

'Pfft, please. I ran for the camera the moment he walked in the door." Iris broke into fresh giggles at Oliver's admiring expression.

"You are an evil person."

She gasped. "You hear that Barry?," she said in mock offence, "He's calling me evil. You gonna take that lying down?"

They both froze, staring wide-eyed at each other. Then burst into almost hysterical laughter.

"Oh my God," Oliver buried his face in his hands, "that was awful."

Iris swatted his shoulder, still shaking with mirth. "Excuse you, it was an amazing pun. Don't you think so, Barry?"

"You see?," Oliver leaned toward Barry conspirationally, "Evil."

They subsided, smiling. Iris took Barry's hand. "You think he can hear us?," she asked wistfully, playing with his limp fingers, "The forums say they can hear and understand sometimes but can't respond -"

"It's a Scale 3 coma, Iris. Brain activity in that state usually indicates complete unconsciousness." He had, in the last three weeks, researched the subject with a diligence he had failed to apply to any of his abortive careers at Ivy League universities. He knew Iris had too.

"Doesn't mean he's not dreaming," she said stubbornly, "I know the doctors say it's unlikely because he doesn't have a sleep-wakefulness cycle but they also don't have a clue why he's flatlining and seizing at the same time..."

There was another pause, both of them holding their breath. They had fallen into a pattern of not talking about the seizures more than necessary, first beause they were terrifying but also out of an unspoken shared superstition that the mere mention of them would precipitate an onset.

But the moments went by and Barry continued to be still, the heart monitor beeping steadily.

Oliver finally broke the silence. "Well, if he can hear us, he's probably horrified at how much blackmail material we're going to be exchanging while he's getting his beauty sleep," he said, teasing a wan smile out of Iris. "And pretty bored, cause I've been reading QC's financial reports and quarterly projections to him."

"Wow. Sounds riveting."

"He thought it was a real snooze, actually," said Oliver solemnly.

Iris broke into a peal of laughter. Oliver grinned back, pleased with himself, before his eyes fell on the doorway where -

- Joe West was standing frozen.

"Detective West," he stood up from his seat, heart sinking. Well damn. After three weeks of painstakingly gaining the man's grudging approval too.

Iris turned around quickly as well. "Dad, we were just -"

But a smile was creasing his normally forbidding countenance, turning into a grin that transformed his face into a sunshine warmth that reminded Oliver of Barry's own. "A real snooze," the detective repeated, giggling.

The laughter that rippled among the room momentarily alleviated the pall that hung over it. For a few minutes they sat around Barry and chatted easily, occasionally talking to him too. It felt as though they were sitting in the Wests' living room having the normal family conversation he and Barry had envisioned during the holidays. Before the Accelerator explosion.

Unfortunately, it was short lived.

The machines suddenly went haywire the exact same moment as the hospital lights started to flicker and die.

"Oh God, not again!"

Barry began to convulse and jerk on the bed. Oliver raced to hold him down but he kept thrashing like some ghastly marionnette pulled by invisible, torturous strings. Dimly he could hear Joe calling for help and Iris crying Barry's name over the terror drumming in his ears. The medical team streamed into the room, pushing him away and he let himself be shunted outside, reduced to watching helplessly.

"Barry!"

Iris was being restrained by a nurse, still shouting. Oliver watched numbly as Joe pulled her into his arms, face as haggard with shock as he felt. She buried her face in her father's chest and fell apart, the way he didn't know how to do anymore.

...

Henry Allen's face was always hopeful whenever he saw him. Oliver tried not to resent him for it, because having to extinguish it every time was awful.

"Is Barry -?" It was the first question that passed his lips the moment he picked up the phone, almost before he sat down and he slumped and aged a little more every time Oliver shook his head wearily.

But like his son, Henry was resilient of spirit, composing himself in short order. "It's been a while, Oliver," the man's smile and tone betrayed no accusation but Oliver still felt a stab of guilt.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that, Dr. Allen," he rubbed the weariness from his eyelids. "Barely had any time between Barry and my mother and wrangling the board at Starling."

"That wasn't a complaint. Just concern. And when are you going to start calling me Henry?" the older man asked in mock-stern humour.

Oliver huffed a laugh and relaxed. "Sorry, Henry."

"You shouldn't worry about me," Henry's blue eyes were painfully understanding, "Iris has been stopping by regularly, keeping me in the loop."

"I'm glad. She's been amazing," said Oliver warmly. Because she really was. But he had come to talk of a less pleasant topic. "Speaking of in the loop, Harrison Wells has spoken to Joe."

Henry's jaw tensed. "What does that man want?"

No one who loved Barry had much sympathy for the architect of the Particle Accelerator explosion, paralyzed and humiliated as he was. Even Henry Allen, as kind a man as had ever lived, couldn't forgive what he had done to his only child. Oliver hadn't thought he was the kind of man who would want to deck a man in a wheelchair but his knuckles itched every time he saw him on TV. Only the thought that this was probably how many Starling residents felt about his mother sobered him.

Still, objectively speaking, Wells's plan seemed pragmatic. Oliver didnt need a medical degree to know that the doctors were at a complete loss and with every seizure they came that much closer to losing Barry.

Henry mulled this over at the end of his explanation. "What do you think?," he asked Oliver.

"It does make sense," he said begrudgingly. "Barry's not getting better. We can't not try everything we can. And it would make me a hypocrite to begrudge someone trying to find redemption for a terrible mistake."

"But what do you think?"

The fact that Barry's father had grown to value his judgment so much never failed to catch Oliver off-guard and humble him. He looked the older man directly in the eye through the dirty glass that separated them.

"I don't trust him as far as I can throw him."

Henry searched his face for a long moment. Finally he jerked his head in a nod of understanding. "But you'll be watching him?"

Oliver's own jaw tightened. "You can count on it."

***

"You have to come home."

He ignored Felicity, continuing to stare at Barry's lax wrist in his hands, feeling the pulse beat humming-bird fast and thready, always seeming thin enough to dissolve.

She sighed. "I know you don't want to -,"

"I can't," he interjected firmly

" - but it's been five weeks. The Mirakuru is still out there and we still have no clue who the man in the skull mask is even though Digg and I have been shaking down as many known drug dealers as we can in the Glades. Isabel Rochev has been hounding us with calls...," Felicity sighed again, and this time he could hear the exhaustion in her own voice. A gentle hand laid on his shoulder. "The city is heading toward some kind of implosion, like with Merlyn last year. We can't let that happen again."

It was too much. Then let it implode, he thought savagely. Why do I have to be the one to save the goddamn city. What makes me so special? Haven't I paid enough for my family's sins?

His grip on Barry's hand tightened convulsively. The truth was that he was terrified to let go for fear that the tremulous thread anchoring Barry to life would snap. He should have known it would end this way. Should have known better than to hope, should have pushed Barry away when he had the chance before he let him down too...

"Why would you want to be with me?," he asked, searching Barry's eyes that still looked at him with such steady faith. "I failed the city. I failed everyone." Especially you.

"You didn't fail everyone. We helped people. You gave people a chance to save themselves. Gave them hope," Barry cupped his cheek tenderly. "Gave me hope."

"It wasn't enough," but Oliver couldn't help turning his face into the comfort of that hand. "I wasn't enough. I'm no hero, Barry."

"Maybe not. But what you are is a good man willing to risk everything to keep people safe," said Barry. "Maybe that's what the city needs, more than a hero. And for that," his hand curled around Oliver's, "you will always be a hero to me."

"Oliver," Digg's urgent voice made him look up sharply. "There's been a bombing downtown. Three people dead. We have to go back now."

Oliver nodded and stood up, making himself release Barry's hand.

I'm going to try and be the man you deserve.

He felt the shift from Oliver Queen to the Arrow as he squared his shoulders, emotion replaced by cold calculation. "I need to call Iris. Felicity, find out all you can about the bomber. Digg, get the jet ready. We'll plan en route."

***

"How's Barry?"

Felicity had the answer automatically ready for Oliver's habitual question almost before he had finished clattering down the stairs to the Arrow Cave, Sara at his heels.

"Still stable. At least according to the video feed," she waved at the monitor that displayed the STAR Labs cortex, where her friend was hooked up to a depressing number of machines. "I feel kinda bad about hacking into that. Cisco and Caitlin really do seem to be doing their best to take care of him."

"I'm not willing to take any chances," said Oliver, hanging up his bow and divesting himself of his quiver almost carelessly, his eyes trained on the screen.

A derisive scoff sounded behind him. "Well that's a big fat lie."

Felicity tensed as Oliver rounded on Sara. The small blonde was unfazed by his looming. She continued to put away her gear without looking at him, ire emanating from her own movements.

He turned around in time to unfortunately catch Felicity sharing a nervous glance with Diggle, who immediately adopted his stolid dealing-with-Oliver's-dramatics stance.

Oliver took a deep breath and cocked his head with an even expression. "Something you want to tell me?" he said, with that "definitely-not-bristling-I-am-a-calm-rational-human-being" demeanor he used when defending some exceptionally stupid decision.

Diggle, as usual, opened with the reasonable tack that invariably put Oliver on the defensive. "Oliver, we know how hard this has been on you. We care about Barry too. But it's been three months -"

"I'm not giving up on him!"

"We're not asking you to!" Sara exclaimed. "But you're being sloppy! You're distracted, you're barely rested, you're taking stupid risks and getting hurt more than usual, which is really saying something," she accentuated her point by slapping her glove against his chest. Felicity flinched. Oh boy.

"I'm doing the best I can," Oliver gritted mutinously.

"Don't you get it, Ollie? You don't have to give up on Barry but you're not helping anyone like this!" Sara got right in his face and Felicity inched her chair further back into the safety of her computer bank. "Slade's got us like sitting ducks, Roy's out of control and whatever issue you're having with Moira right now, our families are in danger! Starling needs you!"

Colour had risen in Oliver's cheeks, his eyes glinting dangerously like he was about fire right back at Sara. But then the fight seemed to deflate right out of him. He slumped, the sheer exhaustion he was fighting a losing battle with weighing down his broad shoulders. It made Felicity's heart hurt. "I'm already doing all I can think of," he sighed, running a hand over his face, "what more do you want me to do?"

Sara stepped back. Her expression had softened but her voice was still stern and unyielding. "If there's anything I've learned while I've been gone, it's that to protect people you have to focus on what's in front of you. You can't have your head in Central City if you're going to fix the problems here," Felicity winced a little at her bluntness. "Otherwise you'll lose both."

***

Despite years of yearning for its comfort, the Queen mansion had never really felt like home after he had returned. Now it was merely a hollow shell preparing to pass into the hands of strangers, his failures dogging him with each echoing footstep.

"Thea is out there hurt or worse because of one person - and it's not Slade Wilson," Roy's eyes burned in his gaunt face. "I believed in you."

"How could you not tell me Malcolm Merlyn was my father?" Thea's eyes were full of accusation and betrayal as she curled into herself. "I believed in you."

"I'd say they'd lost faith in your leadership, but that would imply there was any," said Isabel snidely, vicious victory sparking in her eyes. "Maybe you should have focused a little less on your...evening activities."

"Your father had a weakness for beautiful, strong women."

Even his own room felt like it belonged to someone else, except for the framed picture of himself and Barry sitting on the mantlepiece.

They were both wearing ugly Christmas sweaters that Barry had insisted were traditional, snuggled on the couch in the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. Barry was wrapped in his arms with a look of supreme contentment on his face while Oliver pressed a tender kiss to his tousled head tucked under his chin. He had spent that night at the mansion for the first time, smugly relishing making love in the bed of Oliver's adolescence. Waking up to Barry's drowsy half-lidded gaze had filled him with a contentment he hadn't known was possible.

"I'm so happy I'm frightened," Oliver confessed, his face buried in Barry's neck.

"Why are you frightened?" Barry reached back to card his fingers through Oliver's hair.

He tightened his arms around him. "Of what would happen if I lost you."

Barry turned around to face him, smile sleep-soft and sweet. "You could never lose me."

But you lied, thought Oliver, bile rising in his throat as he stared at the picture in his hands. You left me too.

The rage he hadn't realized had been simmering just beneath the surface suddenly blazed white-hot. He hurled the picture at the wall and swept an arm across the entire mantlepiece, clocks, curios and pictures joining the shattered frame on the floor. The memories of failure and betrayal chased him one after the other as he destroyed every memento in the room in a red haze, kicking, ripping, smashing.

The room was littered in glass shards and debris when he was finally spent, sliding along the wall to drop limply onto the floor. At his feet, Barry's and his happy smiles gazed up at him from the broken frame.

***

Oliver had had this nightmare many times before, replaying that night again and again until he was crying for it to end. But those had taken place in the darkness and freezing wind of the island, the pale torchlight illuminating Sara's and Shado's terrified faces before Ivo shot Shado in the head. Sometimes both her and Sara. Over and over.

Now the harsh beams of the truck's headlights and Oliver's own concussion made everything swim in amber, and the voices begging for their lives belonged to his mother and sister.

"Choose!" No. This was just another nightmare. It had to be. Please God. Please.

But the ropes cutting into his wrists felt very real and part of him knew there would be no merciful awakening from this, any more than there had been the last time.

"Let me make the right choice now! Kill me! It's me you want!" he pleaded desperately, ignoring Thea's and his Mom's renewed cries. I can't take this anymore. Please stop hurting them. Let me die and be with Barry. Let it all end.

"I will kill you," sneered Slade, drawing his gun from his belt and cocking it. "Only more slowly than you would like. I confess, I enjoyed how much pain you've been in watching your lover die by inches," he gloated over Oliver's face and the thought of the deranged man standing over Barry's unconscious form sent ice through him, "But it wasn't enough. Despite everything, you still keep clinging to a strand of hope, however thin. Hope that I can never have." Slade straightened, turning back to his mother and sister. "No, Oliver. I need you to taste true despair. I need you to suffer by my own hand, not just fate's."

"And so...," he laid the barrel of the gun over little Thea's head in a mockery of benediction, ignoring her face soaked in tears. "Choose."

"Please," Oliver choked. "Don't."

"Choose!" Over his mother's head this time.

The fury erupting from his chest was a living thing, searing across his veins, raging to rip Slade's throat out, to feel the satisfying crunch of his neck breaking, to stab an arrow clean through his other eye socket with his bare hands. Yet, the ropes still held.

"CHOOSE!"

But Moira was struggling to her feet, head held proudly aloft despite the arms wrenched behind her back.

"Mom?" No. No no no no no. "What're you doing?"

"There is only one way this night can end," said Moira, voice steady through a throat raw with tears. She turned to Slade, composed and dignified even with the sweat and grime streaking her hair and face, "we both know that, don't we, Mr. Wilson?"

Oliver heard himself and Thea pleading as though from far away. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. He suddenly remembered his Dad in the raft, pointing the gun at his own temple.

"Close your eyes, baby!" Moira implored, but Oliver was transfixed.

Slade seemed taken aback. "You possess great courage," he said deferentially, lowering his gun and turning away. For one wild moment, it seemed as though she might be spared - but then he saw Slade's hand grasp the hilt of his sword.

Thunder rumbled, reverberating the ground beneath his feet. Oliver remembered distantly that there had been a storm on the island that night as well.

Thea screamed as Slade whirled around, the blade flashing silver.

And the world turned gold.

The flare of incredible light seared his eyes, static raising every hair on his body. A moment later, a sonic boom knocked him sideways as something immense cleaved the world in two.

Oliver was only stunned for a bare moment before his reflexes took over, rolling him to his feet almost in the same motion. He shook his head, clearing his vision to see Slade fallen against a tree some ten feet away, trying to struggle to his feet. His mother and sister were nowhere to be seen except for the ropes on the ground.

Panic thudded wildly in his chest. "What did you do?," he yelled at Slade, "What did you do to them?"

But the other man's seemed just confused as he staggered around almost foolishly.

"Thea! Mom!" Oliver yelled. He suddenly realized his hands were untied.

Slade seemed to finally regain his bearings and rounded on him, his face a rictus of fury. "SEARCH THE PERIMETER!" he roared into the darkness. "BRING THEM TO ME!"

Something gleamed on the ground a few feet away. A bare flicker of Slade's eye confirmed that he had seen it too. Their eyes locked on each other for a milisecond before they both lunged sideways for the gun.

Oliver's knee landed in Slade's gut the same time as Slade's armoured knuckles caught him in the jaw. Stars burst across his vision but he hooked his ankle around the other man's leg without a moment's pause. They rolled around in the dirt, scrabbling for the weapon until Slade managed to pin Oliver to the ground, closing his preternaturally strong hand around his throat.

He knew what it was when he felt it this time, the earth rumbling beneath him a second before gold light filled his vision, incandescent enough to blind him through his eyelids, to burn him - but it only enveloped him in a gentle warmth before the world tilted.

The ground under his feet turned to pressurized air, locking him in place as the rest of the world rushed past in a blur, a tidal wave giving the illusion of being dragged into the sea. But he was not grasping for breath and his eyes did not sting; he was engulfed in a warm, secure bubble as the golden rods of light streamed on either side of him, of them, a masked person with lightning eyes -

- and suddenly it all stopped, slamming the breath from his lungs, the ground hard beneath his feet. The thunder clap rang in his ears before he had finished falling to his knees.

It had all happened between one blink and the next. He grasped the earth, disoriented. Only it wasn't earth at all but concrete.

"Whoa, easy there," said an oddly vibrating voice. A gloved hand laid on his back. Oliver flinched and rolled away from it, gaining his feet again.

A tall, almost lanky man in a form-fitting suit was silhouetted against the backdrop of...city lights? They were on a rooftop?

"Who are you?" Oliver demanded, falling into a defensive stance despite still fighting nausea. "Where are we?"

"We're on the roof of Verdant" said the man again in that mechanically resonant voice. There was something oddly familar about it. "Don't worry, your mother and sister are safe. I left them at the Glades precinct. Captain Lance will take care of them."

Oliver noted that the man had gotten Quentin's designation wrong but there were more pressing concerns. "How did we get here? Where's Slade?"

"Deathstroke is, uh, taking a small nappy nap," said the man, airily wiggling his fingers. "I knocked him out, picked you up and ran you here. Don't worry, it wasn't a bridal carry."

"You carried me?"

"Don't sound so surprised. I'm pretty strong. The speed also helps a lot," he shrugged in what seemed like self-deprecation.

"That's not possible."

Oliver swallowed, thoughts racing. He had to find a way to get off this roof and he needed answers. But how do you escape something this fast?

"Isn't it? I thought you said you were more ready to believe in the impossible than most people." I've spent my whole life chasing the impossible. His heart stopped.

"Who are you?"

The man stepped closer to him so Oliver could see his face more clearly in the blazing glow of the city that suffused the evening sky. He wanted to take a step back but his feet were again rooted to the ground as the man ducked his head and pulled back the mask. Barry smiled tentatively, hair tousled and cheeks wind-flushed. "Hey."

***

Either Oliver had forgotten how beautiful Barry was when he was awake or Slade had hit him really hard and he was now hallucinating.

"You. You're not-" his throat was closing. "You're not real."

Not-Barry looked at him gently. "I promise I'm real. See?" He took off a glove and reached out a hand between them. Oliver stared at it. The long slender fingers and slim wrist were so familiar, he reached out to touch it almost without thinking.

The other man's eyes were tender and his smile tired but sweet as ever, dimpling his cheeks. The hand, soft and warm, slotted neatly into his own, fingers intertwining in sense-memory.

"It's me, Oliver," he said, stepping closer. "It's really me."

Oliver touched the man's face as though in a dream. He traced the planes of those cut-glass cheekbones, the shadows cast by his sweeping lashes, the freckles around his eyes, the plush pink lips. They gently brushed his own open mouth and he was suddenly surrounded by the scent of rainstorms and honey beneath which he could sense the taste and feel that was uniquely Barry.

"Barry," he breathed. "Barry."

Oliver grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him forward for a furious kiss that made him grunt and stagger in surprise. He fisted his hands through those soft chestnut waves, holding Barry's head in place to sweep his tongue deeper into his mouth, starving for his taste, his touch, his moans driving him even more delirious.

It was an eternity of bliss and yet not nearly enough when his lover broke free. He caught Oliver's wrists, panting. "Oliver," Barry leaned their foreheads together, both their breathing ragged. Oliver's blood pounded in his ears. He only realized he'd been crying when Barry brushed the wetness away with his ungloved thumb. "Oh Ollie," he murmured sadly.

"Are you dead?," Oliver choked out. His vision blurred with tears but he let them brim over, afraid to blink.

"Are we both dead? Is this heaven?"

"What? Ollie, no," Barry huffed a laugh and turned his face into Oliver's hand to kiss it. "We are both very much alive."

"But I need you to listen to me," his grip on his wrists tightened urgently, those wonderfully awake and alert eyes pinning his own with startling intensity, "I don't have much time. First off, I'm not really back."

Oliver's heart sank and he pulled Barry impossibly closer, running frantic hands over his body searching for damage. "What do you mean?"

Catching his hands again, Barry turned Oliver's chin up to face him full-on. "To understand what I'm about to tell you," he spoke careful and clear, "you need to believe in the impossible. Can you do that?"

Oliver laughed incredulously. "I don't need to believe, I just saw it."

"No, there's more to it. Listen," he took a deep breath, "I'm from the future."

"From...the future," repeated Oliver blankly. This somehow seemed to make perfect sense, in that surreal way the twists and turns of a dream seemed perfectly reasonable.

"Yes. The me of right now is still in a coma at STAR Labs," said Barry. "I'm going to wake up in a few months and I'm going to have these powers."

"Powers? Like...turning into lightning?"

"No, but I am lightning fast and I can generate my own lightning bolts...eventually." Something tight flickered over his expression but he shook it away and refocused. "The point is, I will develop my powers over time until one day I accidentally time-travel."

"Absolutely nobody can find out what really happened here tonight, not even me. I need to find out about my powers by myself and you can't tell me or anyone until one day, I have to deliberately choose to time travel for the first time," Barry cupped Oliver's face in his hands, almost vibrating with urgency. "You have to promise me."

Oliver was still struggling to get a grip on reality. "But why?"

"Because that is how it happened before and now must be again," said Barry. His face was inscrutable. "Anything else will create a paradox. Promise me."

"I promise. I won't tell anyone." He still didn't have the slightest idea what Barry was saying but he would promise his soul to have his partner back like this, warm, responsive, alive.

He couldn't make himself let go of him though. He wasn't sure he knew how. "But - Barry, there's so much happening in the city right now - I need you. I don't know if I can do this without you."

"Oliver, you can do this," and there was that immovable trust in Barry's eyes that he had been starving for, making his heart soar and humbling him to his core at the same time, "It won't be easy but you're not alone. Trust in your family and your team. They have your back. You can save the city and you will beat Slade."

The band that had constricted his chest for months finally loosened, allowing free breath. "You really believe that?"

Barry smiled. "I don't have to believe it. I've already seen it."

It suddenly struck Oliver that this Barry was different in a way that had nothing to do with the mask or the powers. There was an invisible weight on the slope of those broad shoulders. Even his smile was not the full-blown beam of sunshine he was used to, some sad shadow pulling at the creases of his mouth and eyes, and the furrow of his brow. There was a battered and bowed gravity to him that Oliver recognized.

What happened to you? What made you so much like me?

Perhaps Barry had seen him reading too much in his demeanor. Stepped back uncomfortably, he pulled Oliver's hands away. "I have to go," he softened at the sound of distress that escaped Oliver, hands scrabbling to pull him back. "This is real, Ollie," he framed his face in his hands again, eyes as tender as they were intense, "I promise. I'm going to wake up."

Oliver swallowed past the knot in his throat and nodded. "Okay. I believe you."

"And I believe in you," Barry gently pried his hands loose and Oliver, with a Herculean effort, let him.

He stood at the edge of the building, silhouetted in shadow and scarlet against the liquid yellow-gold of the city. Electricity crackled at his feet, spidering up his body which Oliver could sense vibrating with power even at this distance. Almost a demi-god, an entity that belonged to a place and time Oliver could not hope to follow.

A sudden desperation gripped him. "Barry," he called, "I love you."

Barry gave him that soft, sad smile over his shoulder. "I know," he said, lightning sparking in his eyes.

Oliver was braced for the sonic boom this time. He watched in awe as the red-gold comet blazed across the city into the horizon before disappearing into a vortex of swirling blue light.

Now that... is really cool.

Bonus deleted scene

Chapter 2

#olivarry #oliver queen x barry allen #a stitch in time #canon divergence #arrow #the flash #established relationship

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frostmarris · 7 years

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[Chapter One]

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summary: The locals are strange and there’s something about the lake that just does not sit right with her. Odd shapes caught in photos and eyes under the water - Sakura isn’t so sure she wants to get to the bottom of this mystery.

pairings: KisaSaku, ChojuSaku, SuiSaku, possible? ZabuSaku, and some platonic HakuSaku. maybe some others by the end.

notes: a small spooky fic im doing for halloween, featuring some kiri boys and sakuraaaa. hope you enjoy!

“And you’re sure none of the neighbors are secretly axe murderers, one wrong word away from chopping me up and using the bits for fish bait?”

A pause.

“It’s a left onto Greengrove, right?” Sakura frowned at her windshield, squinting at an upcoming sign and waited for a reply. She nudged her scarf down slightly and pursed her lips, resisting the urge to tap her phone screen and make sure the call hadn’t ended.

“Well, Zabuza has definitely killed a man, but I can’t vouch for the others. And, yes, a left onto Greengrove.”

“Hakuuu!” She could hear his laugh through the speakers of her car and she shot a glare down at her cell, groaning under her breath while she could practically hear the amused smile in his voice. “I’m being serious, Haku. If I get murdered, my death is on your hands.”

She’d been driving for a little over three and a half hours, the city and her cozy apartment far behind as she traveled deeper into the countryside and into the woods. The sun was high in the sky by now, the rays breaking through the canopy overhead and dotting her path with pretty beams, but each glimpse of the sky she spotted was marbled with the bleak colors of a November chill. The road she was following was fairly well-maintained and the small town she’d passed through only about ten minutes ago, before entering the forest proper, had seemed relatively pleasant enough, but it had been nearly a year since her last visit to Haku’s lakehouse and she still insisted that the location was spooky.

Lake Kiri, oh so appropriately named, was perpetually shrouded in mist and fog, rarely clearing even in the middle of summer, and she was not looking forward to housesitting the lakeside home for three weeks. But, she owed her friend a favor and the location could provide some nice shots for her portfolio.

Adjusting the heater, Sakura turned onto the next road and allowed her frown to deepen, imagining the pretty young man’s amused face clearly in her mind.

“I’m just joking, Sakura; don’t worry.” He gave another muffled chuckle at her derisive snort and continued. “Zabuza is ex-military and my other neighbor is a police officer. Even if a serial killer were to pop up on the lake, you’d be perfectly safe.”

She held back her mumble of “I bet the cop thing is just an act and they keep their victims in their basement,” and sighed, continuing down the road until it branched again. Flicking on her blinker on reflex, Sakura turned right onto a well-tread rocky road and took a sip of lukewarm coffee from her thermos.

“Fine, but I’m not socializing with the locals.”

“Aw,” Came Haku’s equally pretty voice, “I’m sure you’ll like Zabuza well enough when you meet him. He’s supposed to drop off a- Oh!”

She glanced down at her phone when he cut himself off suddenly, both wondering what had caught his attention and what he’d meant by meeting one of his neighbors.

“I think I see your car! I’ll meet you outside, hang on.”

Sakura could only let out a short hum of agreement before Haku ended the call and she broke through the tree line.

The road melted into a driveway that led up to the nice-looking house, the lawn lush with green grass and a few trees standing tall outside the building. Behind it, Sakura could see the lake – her lips thinning at the sight of rolling wisps of fog – and the small boathouse off to the side. The ground sloped up slightly, leading to the house, and Sakura could vividly remember the living room inside that looked out over the lake, part of the house supported by sturdy framework as it extended out over the water. Just as he’d said, Haku was waiting outside, standing on the porch and waving in greeting as she pulled up next to his jeep.

He quickly ran towards her when she parked, skipping the last two steps, a bright smile on his face and his enviously-long, black hair pulled up into a bun. The moment she stepped out of her car, she was tackled into a hug and nearly knocked over by the taller boy.

“It’s so good to see you!” A pause as he pulled back to look her over, holding her at arm’s-length. “You cut your hair!”

Smiling sheepishly, Sakura reached up to run her fingers through her pixie cut before dropping her hand to play with her scarf. “It’s only been a month since you were in Konoha! And, yeah, the hair is... well, it’s new.”

Haku gave a soft laugh and reached up to ruffle her hair, his brown eyes sparkling and excited.

“I like it! It’s cute.” At her pleased smile, he continued. “And I only got to visit for a day last time. I missed you, Sakura.”

Bright smile returning, Haku quickly pulled her close for another hug and pecked her cheek before moving to help her grab her luggage, chatting happily as they approached his house.

“I’ve got a couple hours before I need to get going so we can hang out for a bit, and, I promise, I’ll treat you to dinner as thanks when I get back.”

“Sounds like a deal.” Bulky camera bag slung over her shoulder, Sakura followed Haku up the porch and locked her car behind her, the tips of her ears turning red in response to the chill in the air.

“Seriously, I can’t thank you enough for this, Sakura. Usually I’m fine with leaving the house by itself – Zabuza stops by to water my plants if I’m gone for a while – but this is longest trip I’ve taken yet and I can’t take the rabbits with me nor do I want to leave them with someone else for so long.”

As if on cue, and no more than two steps past the door, two small masses of fur – one white and one grey – came bounding towards the pair, circling Haku’s feet before pausing next to her, sniffing her pants legs and boots. Smiling, Sakura crouched down and held her hand out, expression brightening when the pair quickly investigated, their noses pressed to her palm before the white rabbit gave her hand a lick, her little black paws on her knee, and the grey bun quickly circled her a couple times.

Haku paused, setting her suitcase aside, and chuckled under his breath as he crouched down as well, stroking the white rabbit.

“Looks like Mochi and Pebble remember you, Sakura. You’re one of the few lucky people they’ve taken a shine to over the years.”

With an amused grin, she reached over to pet Pebble, the smaller of the pair, when she stopped next to her free hand. Sakura’s ran her fingers over the darker grey spots on her forehead before she glanced up at the sound of soft thumps, smile faltering slightly.

Haku’s third and final rabbit, smaller than Mochi but larger than Pebble and covered in black fur marbled with brown spots, was watching them, crouched a few feet away and her brown ear twitching. A little hesitantly, Sakura held out a hand and waited before her expression fell into a deadpan when the bunny simply turned and hopped away, kicking her back feet up at Sakura.

“And Marzipan still hates me.”

Giggling to himself, Haku gave Mochi’s ears a few final scratches before standing and taking Sakura’s arm, leading her further into the house as the rabbits followed after them.

“She’ll warm up to you after you feed her, don’t worry. I think she knows I’m leaving so she’s acting a little passive aggressive. Now! Let’s get you settled in and I’ll make some hot chocolate.”

An hour and a half later found the pair on Haku’s couch, a second batch of hot cocoa in hand and the rabbits lazing around them. With Mochi in her lap, Pebble flopped next to her thigh, and Marzipan tucked under Haku’s knee as he sat cross-legged, Sakura inputted the list of emergency contacts and general numbers of importance into her phone while he flipped through one of her photo portfolios. Absentmindedly stroking the white bun, she glanced up to gaze out the glass doors leading to the small terrace that looked out over the misty lake for a moment before returning her attention to the list, pausing on the last name.

“You mentioned me probably meeting this Zabuza guy, right?” She finally asked as she finished keying in his number. Haku glanced up, expression shifting to one of remembrance before he nodded.

“Oh! Yes, he’s supposed to be dropping off a package for me when he gets back from town later this afternoon. I’ll be gone by then, but he already knows you’ll be here.”

“And who exactly is he again? You’ve mentioned him several times already but I don’t think I know him.”

He smiled at her confused expression, chuckling under his breath before carefully closing her portfolio.

“Zabuza is one of my neighbors – his home is the house closest to mine – and he’s been living on the lake for years longer than I have.” When she nodded in reply, his smiled turned a little more teasing, a playful glint in his eyes. “Big scary guy – could probably crush a man’s skull with just his hands if he tried hard enough. And definitely an axe murderer.”

Sakura sent him an unamused look and he laughed, reaching down to pet Marzipan’s back.

“Kidding, kidding. He’s a little intimidating at first, but a really nice guy once you get to know him. I think you’ll get along.”

Lips pursed, she slowly nodded, leaning back into the couch and smiling fondly when Pebbled shifted, moving to hop up next to Mochi. Sakura hummed under her breath for a moment before glancing over at Haku, eyebrow quirked and her mug of hot chocolate at her lips.

“And what about the other locals? Anyone to... watch out for?”

He reached over to massage the white bunny’s ear and looked thoughtful, turning his gaze out over the lake view.

“Chojuro, the police officer, is my other immediate neighbor and he’s really sweet, if a little shy. Do you still like to take early morning jogs?” At her nod, he continued, leaning back slightly when Marzipan moved out from under his knee and halfway into his lap. “Then you’ll probably meet him if you use the trail that circles the lake – he’s up for runs pretty early in the day.”

A pause as he took a sip of his hot cocoa.

“There are only seven houses around the lake and the two vacant ones are next to each other on the other side of Chojuro’s property. I’ve never personally met Zabuza’s other neighbor, Kisame, but they’re close friends so I hear about him sometimes.” He shrugged, brushing his long, parted bangs over his shoulder. “He works at home and he’s a bit of a recluse, so I doubt you’ll meet him.”

“And the last neighbor?”

Here, Haku’s lips pursed into a frown and he looked back at the lake, expression dry as he pointed into the distance.

“Suigetsu is a... character. He lives on the other side of the lake from me, fortunately. He’s, er... frustrating.” Sighing, he rubbed his forehead, obliging the brown rabbit with chin scratches when she nudged his free hand. “His brother is a lot nicer – more tolerable, at least – but I think he’s in Europe at the moment.”

A dutiful nod.

“So I should keep some pepper spray in hand if I happen to meet a ‘Suigetsu’, got it.”

Haku’s laugh was immediate and he quickly cooed down at the rabbits when they all jumped in surprise, composing himself as he grinned at Sakura.

“No, no! He’s not a bad guy or anything, just a little annoying. Suigetsu keeps to himself usually, so I don’t think you’ll end up meeting him.” She still looked a little dubious and he chuckled under his breath, sending her a lopsided smile. “Every town has that one kooky local – Suigetsu just so happens to fit that bill.”

It was about then that Haku pulled out his own cellphone and checked the time, giving a reluctant sigh as he gently moved Marzipan out of his lap.

“It’s about time I got going.” Lips turning down in a frown as he rose from his spot on the couch, he glanced around and mused aloud. “I already gave you the rabbits’ meal times and showed you where their supplies are...”

“Did you need help loading up your luggage?” Pebble and Mochi begrudgingly hopped out of her lap as Sakura moved to stand as well, all three of buns piling up next to each other as the Haku tried to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything.

“No, no, I packed up the jeep earlier this morning. You’ve got the vet’s number and you said you still remember their general care routine – what else, what else...”

The pair moved out of the living room, Haku absentmindedly pocketing his phone and wallet, and towards the kitchen, the young man gesturing towards the fridge.

“Everything is pretty stocked up but keep receipts if you do any extra grocery shopping so that I can pay you back.” He quickly pressed his fingers to her lips when she looked like she was going to argue, his smile unfaltering. “And that’s not a request. It’s the least I can do!”

After spending a few moments to show her where various items and appliances were in the kitchen, they headed back towards the front door.

“WiFi password is on the nightstand next to the bed, I showed you where the laundry room is earlier, and, oh! The pizza place in town does deliver, just mention my name when they ask for the address. What am I forgetting?”

They’d finally made it to the door and Haku’s eyebrows were furrowed, his hands patting his pockets before he glanced over at the foyer table next to the entrance and his expression brightened with realization.

“Keys!”

Sakura accepted the ring of keys that he plucked out of a glass bowl on the table, checking a few of them over for a moment to find that they were all labeled. Grabbing his car keys from the bowl as well, Haku reached for a coat hung up on the coat rack next to the foyer table, sending her a smile as he pulled it on.

“House key, key to the boat house – feel free to use it if you’re in the mood for a ride on the lake, and my PO Box key.” The rabbits had joined them at this point, hopping up Haku as they seemed to realize that he was leaving and, smiling softly, he crouched down to offer goodbyes and pets. It was only a few moments later before he finally stood and pulled Sakura in for a hug, pecking her cheek once more.

“Give me a call if anything comes up or if you have any questions, okay?”

Smiling, she quickly returned the hug and moved to open the door for him when they separated, nodding as she replied and pocketed the keys.

“Have fun, Haku, and drive safe. I’ll keep you updated on how things are going!”

He gave a final coo to the buns before finally heading towards his jeep, sending Sakura a wave as he moved to climb in.

“See you in a few weeks, Sakura! And thanks again!”

She was careful not to let the rabbits run out, waving in reply and watching Haku back up and travel down the driveway. She waited until he disappeared through the trees before returning inside, rubbing at her arms to beat back the short chill from outside. The bunnies waited at the door for a few moments longer, Mochi standing up on her hind legs while Pebble and Marzipan sniffed at the bottom of the door, before they finally moved away and followed after her. Sakura shuffled carefully into the living room as the grey rabbit wove between her feet and, with a stretch, she pulled her phone out of her back pocket.

“You guys still have a couple hours until your official dinner time but Haku said your hay rack might need a refill about now. I’ll check on that and then we can see if he left his Netflix logged in...”

After the rabbits had been fed their fresh veggies and Sakura triple-checked to make sure their water bowls were full of clean water, she turned her attention to the fridge, hands on her hips as she tried to decide what to make for herself. There were a few toys scattered around the kitchen as Mochi hanged out around her, the other two buns running and playing in the living room with more toys, and she was careful to watch her step as she moved towards the pantry.

Eventually settling on a simple sandwich, Sakura prepared her dinner and grabbed a bottle of water before returning to the living room. She took her seat on the couch, legs crossed and tucked close and the rabbits burning off energy on the carpeted floor, and returned her attention to the TV. Aladdin was still paused, only about ten minutes into the movie – just as she’d left it, and she only made it a few scenes in before there was a sudden knock at the door.

She, of course, jumped in surprise and the rabbits froze, their attention turning in the direction of the front door, and Sakura glanced over her shoulder. Frowning to herself, she hesitated for a moment before finally remembering what Haku had said about his neighbor dropping off a package. She shrugged to herself, guessing that it was the neighbor at the door, and moved to stand, veering off her path to the front of the house to slip into the kitchen and leave her food on a counter, out of reach of the buns.

Sakura ran her fingers through her short hair as she approached the front door, unlocking it before carefully pulling it open and pausing as she stared up at the man in front of her.

He looked like he could very well be an entire foot taller than her, his shoulders broad and entire build muscular, and Sakura blinked as she took in his appearance, remembering Haku’s brief description of ‘Zabuza’.

If the man standing in front of her was, in fact, this mysterious Zabuza, intimidating was pretty damn accurate.

He was dressed pretty light considering the chill in the air of the early evening, the sleeves of his dark blue hoodie pushed halfway up his forearms and the jacket itself open over a black shirt. He was wearing a scarf, Sakura noted in slight relief, but it hid most of his lower face from view and she was left taking in the few details that she could see.

Short, messy, black hair and hard brown eyes that were narrowed as he looked her over as well, and shit, she’d been staring, hadn’t she?

“May I help you?”

He watched her for a moment longer, one hand shoved into the pocket of his jeans while the other held a package tucked up under his arm. The man gave a short huff and glanced over her shoulder before refocusing his steely gaze on her, shifting his weight to his other foot.

“You must be the friend that’s housesitting.” He finally replied, his voice deep but muffled behind the grey scarf. “Haku said you’d probably be here when I stopped by. Did he leave already?”

She resisted the urge to chew on her lip and moved out from behind the door to face him fully, suspicions confirmed.

“Yes and yes, he left a couple hours ago. I’m Sakura Haruno – you must be Zabuza?”

His posture shifted slightly, shoulders relaxing into a slight slouch, and he gave a curt nod before holding out the package.

“Good, he told you I’d be stopping by.” Another grunt as he nodded at her and she held back her frown, lips pressed tightly together.

“Zabuza Momochi,” When she moved to accept the box, she caught the slight change in his expression and realized that he was smirking at her from behind his scarf. “Welcome to Lake Kiri.”

She offered him an awkward smile in an attempt to hide her sudden nervousness.

“Oh, uhm, thanks, Zabuza.” Feeling the need to keep the conversation going, if just to be a polite, she shuffled her feet and rubbed the back of her head. “Do you have any tips as a local? Any places in town to recommend?”

There was another change in his expression, gaze cold and hard set as he looked down at her and an icy chill passed over the pair.

“Don’t go in the water.”

Sakura froze, eyes going wide as her gaze flickered to the side and she resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder.

Grip tightening around the box, she watched him hesitantly.

“W-why..? Is there something wr-”

His snort cut her off and he gave her a very dry look.

“It’s November. Even if the lake isn’t frozen over, the water is still colder than a snowman’s ass. You’ll just end up with hypothermia.”

The flush on her face was both due to the cold air and her embarrassment and Sakura coughed awkwardly into her fist, green gaze dropping down to the side as she mentally berated herself.

Duh, Sakura.

“R-right, of course. Thanks for the heads up...”

His amused grunt only furthered her embarrassment and Zabuza slipped his free hand into his pocket, that smirk returning as he watched her.

“There’s a bakery next to the post office.” He said after a moment and she glanced up, pink eyebrow quirked. “I recommend the blueberry glazed.”

She gave him a slow, nod in thanks and they stood silently for a few seconds before he shifted his weight to his other leg again. Rolling his shoulders in a shrug, he tipped his head towards her in a final nod as his gaze turned oddly thoughtful.

“Anyways, I’ll get going. Nice meeting you. Haku gave you my number?”

(It didn’t particularly sound like he meant it, but she appreciated the sentiment. He looked like he was more annoyed with the niceties than he was letting on, but she wasn’t about to say anything about it.)

At her nod, he turned, walking down the porch and towards a truck that she now noticed parked next to her car, a hand lifting from his pocket as he offered a short wave in farewell.

“O-oh! Nice meeting you too, Zabuza. Have a good night?”

She received a nod in reply and, in moments, he was making his way down the driveway and into the trees. Sakura stared after him for a few seconds, gaze following the glow of his brake lights, before she let out a sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing. Package tucked under her arm, she ran her fingers through her hair and quickly went back inside, taking a moment to lock the door once more.

She could now put a face to a name, one of four, and while first impressions hadn’t been too terrible, she wasn’t sure how she felt about this Zabuza guy. Intimidating, for sure. But she had a feeling that he had been trying not to act too sour towards her. Still, he was apparently pretty close friends with Haku, so that was reason enough to attempt to be friendly with him.

Hopefully she’d have similar luck with the other neighbors.

While the rabbits had their own cute little beds tucked into their large corner of Haku’s bedroom, complete with toys, fleece blankets, a little hidey-house, and bowl of water, Sakura wasn’t too surprised when she felt one hop up onto the bed later that night, sniffing at her face as she let out a groan. She couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour and a quick peak at her phone confirmed that it was just past midnight. Rolling over onto her back, Sakura absentmindedly stroked the bun that was snuggling up against her chest, its nose tucked under her chin, and managed to spot white fur in the darkness of the room.

Draping an arm over her eyes, she let out a tired yawn.

Only to pause as her ears picked up the distant sound of water splashing.

Eyebrows furrowed, Sakura lowered her arm and glanced to her left - towards the window that faced the lake. Lips pursed, she listened for a moment longer and was just about to pass it off as her imagination when she heard far-away splashes again, Mochi nuzzling at her jaw as she frowned to herself.

Mumbling an apology to the rabbit, she slowly sat up and ultimately tucked the bun against her side when she didn’t hop off of her lap. Carefully supporting Mochi with her arm, Sakura slid off the edge of the bed and moved towards the windows, a hand raised to brush through her messy pink hair. With the rabbit snuggled into the crook of her arm, she pulled back a white curtain and peered out at misty lake, gaze narrowed as she tried to see anything through the rolling clouds of fog.

The moon bathed the lake with a soft glow, making the entire scene rather eerie and Sakura tried to convince herself that the chill creeping up her spine was completely plausible considering the cold weather. Fortunately, she saw no eyes in the mist or figures out on the water or spooky, unidentifiable shadows and, with a tired groan, she told herself that it was nothing, thank you very much.

Still, she was sure to double check the locks on the windows before pulling the curtains back into place, finally returning to the bed and mumbling a goodnight to Mochi when she took up a spot on her stomach, the pair quickly falling back asleep.

Had Sakura stayed at the window just a minute longer, she would have surely seen the distant shape rise out of the water, the fog drifting around it for a moment before it sank back down below the surface of the lake.

#thirrinwrites #thirrinfic #kirisaku #kisasaku #suisaku #chojusaku #though they havent shown up yet #also gonna tag #zabusaku #and hakusaku #though its mostly platonic at this point

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