be us against the world - t - olicity - part 6 [a]
title: we keep all our promises (be us against the world)
category: arrow
genre: drama/romance
chapter rating: pg-13/teen
overall rating: nc-17/explicit
inspiration: gif (source)
word count: 12,189
summary: [au - no island] Oliver Queen has no idea what he's doing with his life, but when his father gives him an ultimatum, he has to figure it out. After meeting Felicity Smoak, he finds himself on a new path and his eyes are opened to what happiness really means and how finding it takes more courage than he ever thought he had.
Previous: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Interlude One, Interlude Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five,
dhfreak
VI.
Oliver hadn't spent much time in the Glades after his grandfather died. He saw it on the news from time to time and heard about how much it had been falling apart, that jobs were scarce, but, for the most part, all he really knew was that it was somewhere someone like him had no reason to be. When he was a little boy, he always got the impression his father was ashamed of where he had come from. The Glades hadn't been as run down as they were now, but it was still the poorer side of Starling City. Still, every weekend Moira and Robert would pack him up into the car and take him out to his grandpa. Of what he could remember, he thought some of his favorite memories were of running around the house, riding the banister down to the bottom, sitting on the porch swing, or playing in the garden in the back. His mother would always complain about how dirty he got playing in the garden, helping his grandpa pull weeds, but Oliver didn't care. He was always distracted by the candies his grandpa kept in his pocket, pulling them out and sneaking to him at odd times, chucking him under the chin and asking him about school and what he'd been up to lately.
Unlike Robert, his grandfather always listened. He would sit Oliver down at his rickety old kitchen table, pour him a glass of milk and hand him a stack of Oreos while he listened to Oliver lay out his whole day in extreme detail, from the moment he woke up to sitting down and eating cookies with him. Those moments were always special to him, maybe because they filled that part of him that craved the encouragement and appreciation of a male figure in his life, or maybe because his grandfather in particular always made him feel so good about every little accomplishment. Either way, there were only good memories for him when he thought of his grandfather.
He had to drive by the old house to get to the homeless shelter. There was graffiti on the walls and the gate hung crooked on the fence. The cement pathway leading from the sidewalk to the porch steps needed replacing and the shingles around the window were just one strong breeze away from falling off. The paint was old, too. The whole house was old and only getting older. When his grandfather had died, he left the house to Oliver, but it had often been forgotten about. For the first few years, Robert used to send someone out to tend to it. Not to repair it, possibly because the draft that ran the house and the creaky steps were familiar, they were home even if Robert refused to acknowledge it. But eventually he stopped sending someone and so the yard was overgrown and the house just that much closer to looking like a crack den.
Oliver parked his car a few blocks down from the shelter and walked the rest of the way. He considered bringing Jasper, but she would've been tied up for two hours too long. His shift wasn't anything too demanding. He'd offered to spend more time but there were already a lot of volunteers doing a number of jobs. When he arrived, he waved at the few familiar faces he recognized and asked where they wanted him.
"You're on lunch duty today, handsome," Benji told him, grinning as he pointed to a milk crate full of aprons. "Put one on, grab some gloves, and help me hand this out."
Oliver nodded, walking over to dig out an apron. He had to discard a few, either because they were too small or too frilly for him to pull off. Eventually, he found one near the bottom, a shade of green so dark it was almost black. He pulled it over his head and tied it at his back as he walked to the counter with the gloves. Grabbing out an extra-large pair, he pulled them on before joining Benji back at the counter. There was a pile of sandwiches, cut into fours, on a pair of lunch trays, a stack of napkins within reach, and a large pot of soup with a ladle stuck in it.
"You want soup or sandwiches?" Benji wondered, brow quirked.
"Uh, I'll take sandwiches," he decided, trading places with him.
Benji was a good ten years older than Oliver. He was a foot shorter too, with narrow shoulders and a bit of a paunch on him, making a rather odd picture sometimes. He was all smiles and had been since the first time Oliver met him. He had a prominent widow's peak and a distinctive mole on his cheek. By society's standards, Benji would be not be called handsome himself, but he was a character. He was funny, friendly, and very confident. He called everyone 'handsome' or 'beautiful,' and, while Oliver thought it might offend some people, it seemed to cheer up more than it offended. Oliver thought it might just be a way to avoid forgetting names, though.
Oliver looked down the counter to see a line going around the whole room. "Are you guys always this busy?" he wondered. The last time he'd been there, he was put on stock duty, so he'd been too busy unpacking food in the back to see how everything else ran. His first stint at the shelter had been in the clothing department, helping to separate everything after it'd been washed and dried. They had an area set up with clothing racks where people could go through everything and grab what fit. According to the woman he'd been working with, they were always in need of socks. Oliver filed it away for later, when Sapphire was off the ground and he had the money to spare.
"Sometimes busier." Benji leaned over the counter. "All right, friends, let's eat!" he called.
With that, the line started moving. People stopped, one by one, in front of Oliver, accepting a sandwich before they moved on to take a bowl of soup. Coffee, tea, water, and a stack of cups was off to the side.
The faces that met Oliver as they stepped in front of him ranged from young to old, some recently showered while others looked like they hadn't had the chance to clean up in some time. There were a few people in wheelchairs, another man on crutches, and one who shook so violently he had to have a friend carry his food to the table for him. Mental states and personalities were so broad he almost felt overwhelmed. There was a woman smiling at him with only four front teeth; she didn't speak English, but she was excited when he gave her a sandwich, nodding at him over and over in thanks. She reached up to pat his hand, her fingers dirty and her nails gnarled. She did the same to Benji, who merely grinned back at her and told her to have a good lunch. The next man was Oliver's age; he was quiet and surly, impatient as he took his sandwich and soup, eager to get out of line.
It was funny, Oliver had never considered how different they'd all be. In his head, he'd always considered how grateful everybody must be when they came to shelters like this. There was an image he had of desperation, of hunger, and it was filled with someone being so appreciative over their food that they thanked him with tears in their eyes. But what he had done, really? He handed out a sandwich somebody else had made. He spent two hours, three days out of his week at this shelter. He didn't know their names or their stories or if this was something they'd been dealing with for a long time. In the end, he was still a spoiled rich boy who'd never had to suffer, never faced adversity quite like this, and always knew that if he needed help, his parents would offer it.
But that was why this was important. Perhaps it was selfish of him, to use these people and their much worse circumstances to open his eyes, but that hadn't been the point when he first started. When he'd arrived at the shelter with his mom, he'd been… intrigued. There were so many people, so many cogs moving in the machine, making sure others had food and shelter and clean clothes. His understanding of what it meant to be homeless was limited, at best, and this provided a different outlook.
He didn't have much to do lately except to prepare for the next meeting and, well, he was going a little stir crazy. Felicity had work all day and he could only walk Jasper for so long before even she got tired. So, he needed something else, something that would give back. When he was growing up and he'd complain that he was bored, Raisa was always quick to tell him that, if he really had nothing better to do but complain then he had enough time and energy to put it into something worthwhile, like volunteering. Oliver had always pretended not to hear her. He loved her, but he was a teenager, and there was little appeal at the time.
Now, however, he felt like he could be doing something, and should.
He didn't always know what to say to the people who came up looking for food, but he smiled and he told them to enjoy their lunch. He wasn't always comfortable, feeling out of place in his designer clothes, freshly showered. But maybe that was the point. Maybe being comfortable with it would be wrong. He shouldn't come to expect that others should suffer. It should bother him. And for the first time in his life, the suffering of others, the maltreatment of people, really did make him look up and take notice.
Felicity opened the door with a grin. "Hey," she greeted, waving a hand behind her. "Come on in. We'll have the studio for a few hours, but I'd like to get started as soon as possible."
Oliver stepped inside, casting a curious look around the open loft. "You said your friend was a film major?"
"Yes! He's really into directing, so he has every kind of camera and mic on the market." She stepped further into the room, where boom mics were leaned up against a wall and a large green screen hung against a red brick wall. "It's probably not as high tech as the big studios, but it'll work for what you guys were looking for." She pointed to a few cameras off to the side. "Everything is synced up with the computers, and he's already queued up a few backgrounds that he thinks will work. City landscapes, dark, strobe-lighty dancers, DJ's, that kind of thing. You guys will stand on the marks, pitch it all, and then I'll do some editing with him and get it all put together. We can shoot a few different scenes, try your lines out, see what works."
"This is awesome," Tommy said, stepping further into the room and looking around. He stopped when he was close to Felicity and bumped his elbow with hers. "Thanks for this, by the way. The Big Guy said you could help out, but wow, I didn't think we'd get this kind of hook-up."
She shrugged. "It's nothing. I know how much it means to Oliver, so I just wanted to help where I could."
Oliver answered her, though she'd been talking to Tommy, who'd walked off to give them a moment. "You're helping." He hugged an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side. "Between this and the research you did, we should write you in as a co-owner."
She laughed, her brows hiking as she looked up at him incredulously. "I think the club business is a little out of my area of expertise." She patted his chest. "But thanks for thinking of me."
"Are we using these mics?" Tommy wondered, tapping one. "Or are we going to get the little ones that attach to our shirts?" He turned to look at them. "Do I look all right for this? I feel like I could've dressed up more for my commercial debut…"
Felicity laughed under her breath. "You look fine."
"Yeah?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her before winking. "You don't look so bad yourself, Smoak."
Oliver pursed his lips in a frown, tipping his head at Tommy.
His friend held up his hands in surrender. "So? Where do we start?"
"Lines, I think." Felicity motioned toward the two X's marked on the floor with tape and then moved to take a seat on a stool. "All right, let's hear 'em." She waved a hand and cupped the other behind her ear. "Wow me."
Oliver grinned and took his place at Tommy's side.
The both of them looked like overexcited goofballs at first, and quickly descended into shoving each other and laughing instead of actual work.
"Don't make me break out the megaphone," she warned, raising an eyebrow at their horsing around.
Oliver smoothed out his shirt and faced forward. "Okay. Business persona." He inhaled deeply to find his calm and Tommy mimicked him.
Amused, Felicity looked between them and nodded.
It took three hours to shoot the ad, with a number of distraction, retakes, and fixing dialogue to what they felt worked, but, in the end, Felicity assured them she had enough footage for her and her friend to work with. She locked up the studio as she followed them out, dropping the key in her purse and joining them in the elevator.
"So, Felicity, what do you think? Would you finance our club?" Tommy wondered, elbowing Oliver in the side.
She smiled over at him. "I don't have anywhere near the kind of money you guys would need, but I'd invest if I could."
"Yeah?" Oliver looked down at her skeptically.
"Sure." She looked up at him, her eyes soft. "You guys are obviously knowledgeable about the club scene, you've done your research, even more than what I gave you, and you're motivated. You're going to need to be, because getting somebody to put hard earned money into this idea isn't going to be easy, and you'll probably get rejected, a lot. But that's what makes the payoff that much sweeter."
He stared down at her searchingly and, slowly, a smile turned up his mouth.
"What?" she asked.
He shook his head. "You just keep surprising me."
The doors to the elevator opened and she stepped out, smiling back at him over her shoulder. "That's a good thing?"
He nodded. "Yeah."
"Good." She twirled on her heel to walk away. "Then I'll keep doing it."
He grinned as she walked away, and he didn't stop until Tommy clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You're in so deep over your head," he said laughing.
Oliver didn't deny it.
"You've gotta promise you won't mention it to mom," he said, his hands pressed over Thea's eyes.
"I know, I know, I promise," she said, squirming excitedly. "What is it? I wanna see! Show me!"
Oliver led her into the living room of Tommy's apartment, grinning to himself.
While Thea waited impatiently to be introduced to the surprise he promised her, Jasper hopped off the couch she'd been curled up on and walked over, eager to meet someone new. She walked right up to Thea and immediately started sniffing her, her tail wagging happily as she nudged Thea's hand with her wet nose, looking to be pet.
Thea went still and Oliver could feel her brows furrow in confusion beneath his fingers.
"Thea, meet Jasper," he said, taking his hands away.
Seeing no one in front of her, she opened her mouth to ask who Jasper was, only to look down and realize a dog was sitting in front of her. Oliver had never seen Thea's eyes light up so quickly before. "A dog!" she cried. "You got a dog?!" With an excited laugh, she fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around Jasper's neck, hugging her tight before she started scrubbing her fingers behind Jasper's ears and petting down her neck. "Oh, she's so pretty, Ollie!"
Jasper licked Thea's face approvingly, leaning into her side as her tail thumped loudly on the floor.
Thea fell backwards at the weight of the dog against her and they toppled together. Jasper sprawled over Thea's stomach, her paws up as she showed her belly to Oliver and yapped.
Bending down, he rubbed her belly and rolled his eyes. "You're going to have to change when you get home or mom's allergies are going to act up."
Thea didn't care, she thumbed Jasper's ears and smiled at her. "How old is she? How long have you had her? Can we take her for a walk?" she asked, volleying the questions at him quicker than he could answer.
"She's not technically mine; I volunteer to take her out. And yeah, we can walk her, that's why I wanted you to come over now. I've gotta drop her back off at the shelter after, but I thought you'd like to come to the park with us. You can throw the ball for her."
"Really? That's so cool! Can we go now?" she hoped.
Jasper, having recognized the words 'walk' and 'ball' had already jumped off of Thea, sitting pretty in front of Oliver, waiting to see the leash.
"Sure." Oliver reached a hand down to help Thea to her feet and smiled as she dusted herself off, loose dog hair floating off her clothes. He grabbed his jacket and the leash before returning to them, a ball already waiting in the pocket of his coat. He handed Thea the handle to the leash as he attached it to Jasper's collar and scratched his fingers over her neck. "We'll take her to the park, all right? You can walk her, but if you think she's pulling too much, just give it to me. She can get excited."
Thea nodded happily, smiling brightly up at him.
He felt a little bad, half-wishing he'd introduced them earlier. He could already see Thea coming out as often as she could, visiting just for the chance to see Jasper. It wouldn't be the worst thing. Ever since he'd moved out a few weeks earlier he'd had less time to spend with Thea. He and Tommy were shopping the club around to just about anybody that would listen, and, in between that, he was volunteering at the homeless shelter, finding time to spend with Laurel, and hanging out with Felicity. He managed to get together with his mother each Sunday for brunch, but Thea was usually busy with homework or friends. Not that he was complaining, exactly; it was actually kind of nice to spend some quality time with his mother.
"Oh, can we get ice cream when we're at the park?" Thea wondered. "Do dogs eat ice cream? I bet she'd like something with peanut butter in it! My friend Lisa gives her dog peanut butter sometimes, 'cause it makes him chew funny. It looks like he's talking! She makes up things he'd say, too. Lisa's funny."
He half-grinned down at her and walked her to the front door. "We can stop for ice cream after our walk," he agreed. "But don't tell mom, or she won't let you have dessert after dinner."
Thea beamed up at him and drew a cross over her heart.
Oliver followed her out of the apartment, sighing a little himself as she started talking about school and her friends and which ones had dogs. His sister wasn't called Speedy only for how quick she was to chase him, she could talk a mile a minute. He wondered if she'd ever grow out of it, but wasn't sure he really wanted her to. It was just one of those Thea things he loved. She was so eager to tell him things and there never seemed to be enough time, so she tried to fit it all in one breath. He loved her for it.
Wrapping an arm around her neck, he gave her a noogie, laughing when she cried out, "Ollie!"
She shoved him back, frowning at him as she tried to flatten her hair, but her irritation with him was gone as quickly as it came.
Jasper let out a little bark, wanting attention, and suddenly Thea only had eyes for the dog.
Oliver smiled, tucking his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Introducing Thea to Jasper might just've been the highlight of his week.
The bank was out. With his accounts frozen, the bank didn't look favorably on giving him any kind of loan. He didn't have any education or business expertise that left them confident in his abilities to put his idea to work, and, while Tommy had a comfortable amount in his trust fund, it was all he had. Neither of them had any kind of credit, and, given their history, it probably would have been bad anyway. On top of that, Malcolm had followed in Robert's footsteps, warning Tommy that if he tried to do this with his trust fund, Malcolm would cut him off at the knees. Apparently, he didn't think Tommy had it in him to run a business and, while he wanted him to do something with his life, he didn't think that opening a club would reflect well on either Merlyn Global or him. It appeared the consensus on them was that they'd drink more than they'd sell and it wasn't a solid enough proposal to get anyone to sign on.
Oliver was losing hope, and a lack of support from Laurel wasn't helping things.
"I just think it wouldn't be the worst thing to tell your dad that you want to continue working with him until this club idea picks up. It's a safety net, at least."
He scowled. "It wasn't so long ago that you were saying moving out and losing my trust fund would be good because I wouldn't have a safety net…"
Laurel sat down beside him, her hand resting on his chest. "That was before. Oliver… I know you want to do this, but is it realistic?" She looked up at him, a furrow between her brows. "Why don't you put it on hold for a while? Build up your business experience with your dad, see how it works, and maybe in a few years you can try this again."
"What if I don't want to put it on hold?" He shook his head. "I don't want to be my dad's shadow, and I don't want to grovel for my job back."
"Nobody said anything about groveling," she argued.
"You think he'd just give it back to me? After I made a big show out of wanting to do this, even if he wasn't going to help?"
She shrugged. "Well, maybe you shouldn't have done that either."
He blew out a sigh. "It's a little late for advice."
She leaned back from him, looking irritated. "Well, maybe if you'd actually talked to me like I wanted you to instead of storming out when I told you that this club idea probably wasn't going to work out, you would've heard my advice before it all blew up in your face."
"Can we just stop fighting? Please?" He shook his head, running his fingers back through his hair. "I'm tired of arguing with you about this."
Her face softened. "I don't want to fight either." She leaned against him, her head falling to his shoulder. "So? Does Tommy have you on a curfew, or can you stay for a while?" she wondered, slipping her hand down his chest to rest on the buckle of his jeans.
Glancing at the clock, he said, "I've got an hour."
Laurel's head pulled back in surprise. "That's it?"
"I have something to do tonight, but I'm free tomorrow."
Her brow furrowed but she shrugged. "Okay." Smiling then, she bit her lip. "An hour's enough time to make-up…"
A little more than an hour later, Oliver arrived outside the theater. "Am I late?" he wondered.
Felicity turned toward his voice, her blonde hair swinging. She smiled as she spotted him. "I'm pretty sure we're missing the trailers. Which are kind of the best part…"
He grinned. "Sorry. Buy you popcorn to make it up to you?"
"Deal," she agreed, handing him his ticket. "I bought them early just in case."
"You didn't have to do that," he said, digging out his wallet.
She shook her head. "It's fine. I know things are a little tight right now. And asking Tommy for help makes you awkward, so…"
He frowned. "Is it pathetic that I'm buying you popcorn with money I borrowed from my mom?"
She laughed under her breath. "Honestly?" She nodded. "A little."
He shook his head, smothering a smile. "At least you're honest."
"Why don't I buy the popcorn?" she offered. Before he could protest, she poked his chest with her ticket stub. "And when you're a big club owner, you can pay me back."
He struggled with it for a second, but her sincere expression made him relent. "Okay. But if you're paying, I want the real butter."
Her head fell back as she laughed, and the sound settled deep into his chest, erasing that lingering sense of failure.
They shared a large bag of extra buttery popcorn and a box of Dots while they watched Mr. and Mrs. Smith. It was one of the few nights in a long time that he felt completely relaxed.
"I think I'm going to have to stop in and see my doctor. I can't seem to stop sneezing," his mother told him, shaking her head. "Your sister came home yesterday and I sneezed for five minutes straight, it was the strangest thing."
He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "Actually, mom, there's something I've been meaning to tell you…"
Her brow furrowed. "You can tell me anything, Oliver. What is it?"
He picked apart the muffin in front of him for something to focus on. "You remember when I was growing up and I used to bug you and dad for a dog."
"Of course. You asked for one every birthday and every Christmas until you were ten. It was awful. Your father used to complain that a boy needed a dog, but you know I was so allergic I couldn't-" She paused, her brows raising. "Oh."
"Her name's Jasper. I introduced her to Thea last week and, well…"
"Ahh, so that's why she's been so eager to visit you at Tommy's…" Moira smiled lightly. "Oliver, I can't tell you not to have a dog. It's inconvenient for me, but you're building a life now, and if you want a dog, you should have one."
"Jasper's from a dog shelter. I walk her. She's not really mine, but…"
"You want her to be?" she asked knowingly.
He nodded. "It's just a lot of responsibility. I don't even have my own place and I'm not sure Tommy really wants a dog around full time."
"Well, I'd offer to take her but if I can't handle the dog fur your sister comes home wearing, I'm not sure how I'd handle a whole dog."
"No, I know, it's fine. I just… I don't know. I'm not used to dealing with things like this. It used to be, if I wanted something, I got it. And now I have to think about all of these other things first…" He frowned. "Growing up is a lot more difficult than mainstream television led me to believe."
Moira laughed, her head falling back. She reached for him across the table and squeezed his forearm. "You'll figure it out."
He half-grinned. "Yeah… I think I will."
[Continue.]