Because she asked so nicely.
For noxelementalist, my very first Smallville fic.
So I saw Legion, and I just thought, "Garth is a fanboy! I wonder how he'd react to the rest of the League?" Then this fic popped into my head.
As a warning - This is post-Legion, and does reference that episode anyone who is unfamiliar with it and who wishes to remain unspoilt should probably avoid this fic.
Disclaimer - I do not own these characters. If I did Lana would have been beaten to death with a Manolo Blahnik several seasons ago.
Intimation from an Unlikely Source
OR
Why One Should Always Keep An Eye on Their Fanboys
Oliver couldn’t say for sure what tips him off. There’s no sound, not even a whisper of fabric, or breath. He assumes that the fact of being violently attacked, watching one of his closest friends be kidnapped, and then being unable to help free said best friend from the body-stealing alien parasite inside her, all in less then thirty-six hours, has him on high alert. Even in his apartment, his instincts are tuned for the tiniest of changes. One of the shadows along the wall is deeper than the others.
Normally Oliver would say something pithy and sarcastic, a warning to whomever it is that they’ve been spotted. But today is not normal, and Oliver doesn’t feel like being forgiving in his caution.
He moves his hand in a seemingly casual gesture, dropping the latest file of information on 33.1 to his desk. His left hand comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose, but his eyes stay on the shadows.
There! Faster than most humans could process, his arm snaps out, and the paperweight he’s palmed flies into the now no longer occupied space. Huh, apparently his observer isn’t most humans.
“Ya know, that’s not the most polite way to say ‘hello’.”
The voice comes from his left, and Oliver turns half expecting to find an empty space. Instead he finds a gangly red head leaning against his wall.
“Oh, pardon me, I’m not entirely up to date on intruder-intrudee etiquette.” ‘Ah, sarcasm, my old friend. You’re always there to be scathing with.’ Oliver smirks.
The red head looks distinctly unscathed. The red head in fact looks amused, almost thrilled to be insulted by Oliver. Oliver does not feel put out or confused by this fact. He is not exactly most humans either, and this kid is not going to put him off his game.
“Oh, I don’t think that’s entirely true, Ollie.” The kid is now grinning wildly, and yeah, he’s definitely amused. “I mean it’s not like I’m the first superhuman you’ve ever met. Arrow.”
Oliver move fast, but the kid is faster. By the time Oliver’s up and ready to put him through the wall, the kid is on the other side of the apartment, still grinning.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa man. I’m not a threat, I’m a fan.”
“What?” The word is bitten off, and Oliver can practically feel the hood he’s not wearing framing his face. One word, one wrong word, and however fast this kid is, he’s not leaving here with his jaw intact.
“I’m a fan. I was here, ya know, to help Kal… well… we’re here to help Kal, but Imra’s off drooling over Lana, and Rokk’s talking ethics with Kal back on the farm and I thought it’d be cool to meet you.” The kid is flushing by the end of speech, and the grin is gone replaced by a smile that is part sheepish, part guilty, and still part thrilled.
Oliver drops his shoulders, a little of the tension ebbing away. He doesn’t trust this kid, but very few bad guys, and even fewer burglars, blush.
“Who are you?”
“My name’s Garth. Or Lighting Lad, but you can call me Garth.” The kid, Garth, is all eagerness again, and Oliver fights down the smile that wants to break forth. Just because he’s not hostile, doesn’t mean he’s friendly.
“Okay, Garth, how do you know who I am, and what do you want?”
“Like I said, dude, I just wanted to meet you! I mean, your Green Arrow, man! Where I come from your legendary! Almost as legendary as Kal-El.”
‘Kal-El?’ Oliver thinks, “Where you come?” Oliver asks out loud.
“Oh yeah! Sorry, I forgot for a second, I’m from the 31st Century.”
Oliver does. not. stare. He reminds himself that he is grown man who nightly dresses in green leather and goes out to confront criminals with a bow and arrow. That three of the people he works with have metahuman abilities, while the other has a computer surgically grafted into him. And he’s not even about to get started on Clark. ‘A metahuman that claims the ability to travel in time is not worth goggling at’, he thinks, ‘though he might be worth recruiting.’
“The 31st Century.”
“Yup!”
“Where I’m a legend?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay then. And you came to see me… just to see me?”
“Well, yeah. The Green Arrow is legend for fighting all injustice, big and small, and you League of heroes is what Rokk, and Imra, and I based the Legion on. I guess you could say you’re sort of our hero. Well, besides Kal, of course.” The last is said with a kind of grinning, aw shucks; don’t pay any attention to that man behind the curtain, mentality that is supposed to throw one off the scent. Oliver picks up on it like a bloodhound.
“Kal. You mentioned him earlier. Who is he?” Oliver grins the question, and Garth grins right back and opens his mouth.
“Kal is just another name for Supe…”
“Garth!”
The voice cracks through the room like a whip. Oliver starts, and a small part of him is pleased to note that Garth does too. Both turn to the open balcony doors where the owner of it stands, fury radiating off him like waves.
He’s dressed in black, hands on his hips, and is glaring at Garth like he’d like nothing more than to cross the room and smack him silly.
“What did we say about the timeline, and not screwing it up?”
Oliver turns to look at Garth and sees the delight in his face has dimmed and the guilt has grown exponentially.
“Sorry, Rokk. I just, wanted to meet him. I mean, your such a fan, and I thought…”
“I don’t care what you thought, Garth. History is not to be played with!”
Oliver sees Garth flinch, and feels a stab of… something like anger and disappointment. The kid, for all his craziness, isn’t actually bad. “Hey, Rokk is it? He didn’t actually say anything except that he knew who I was.”
“Yeah! It’s not like I said anything about the epic love between him and Kal or…”
“Garth! Try to keep AC out of DC for even a minute!”
Garth subsides, and Oliver tries very hard to look like he’s never heard the words epic, love, or Kal before in his life.
Rokk glares at Oliver, and Oliver meets him eye for eye. “Come on Garth we’re leaving.”
Garth crosses the apartment, and pauses in front of Oliver. “It really was awesome to meet you.” Then he joins Rokk on the balcony.
Oliver goes to the doorway, and tries very, very hard not to stare as both Garth and Rokk lift into the air and fly away. He fails.
‘What the hell just happened?’ he thinks ‘And who the hell is Kal?’
The trilling of his cell phone breaks the silence in the apartment behind him; Oliver turns from his contemplation of the now empty sky and goes back inside. As he picks up his phone he checks the display and smiles.
It’s Clark.
So there you are hon. I hope you like it okay.
So I saw Legion, and I just thought, "Garth is a fanboy! I wonder how he'd react to the rest of the League?" Then this fic popped into my head.
As a warning - This is post-Legion, and does reference that episode anyone who is unfamiliar with it and who wishes to remain unspoilt should probably avoid this fic.
Disclaimer - I do not own these characters. If I did Lana would have been beaten to death with a Manolo Blahnik several seasons ago.
Intimation from an Unlikely Source
OR
Why One Should Always Keep An Eye on Their Fanboys
Oliver couldn’t say for sure what tips him off. There’s no sound, not even a whisper of fabric, or breath. He assumes that the fact of being violently attacked, watching one of his closest friends be kidnapped, and then being unable to help free said best friend from the body-stealing alien parasite inside her, all in less then thirty-six hours, has him on high alert. Even in his apartment, his instincts are tuned for the tiniest of changes. One of the shadows along the wall is deeper than the others.
Normally Oliver would say something pithy and sarcastic, a warning to whomever it is that they’ve been spotted. But today is not normal, and Oliver doesn’t feel like being forgiving in his caution.
He moves his hand in a seemingly casual gesture, dropping the latest file of information on 33.1 to his desk. His left hand comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose, but his eyes stay on the shadows.
There! Faster than most humans could process, his arm snaps out, and the paperweight he’s palmed flies into the now no longer occupied space. Huh, apparently his observer isn’t most humans.
“Ya know, that’s not the most polite way to say ‘hello’.”
The voice comes from his left, and Oliver turns half expecting to find an empty space. Instead he finds a gangly red head leaning against his wall.
“Oh, pardon me, I’m not entirely up to date on intruder-intrudee etiquette.” ‘Ah, sarcasm, my old friend. You’re always there to be scathing with.’ Oliver smirks.
The red head looks distinctly unscathed. The red head in fact looks amused, almost thrilled to be insulted by Oliver. Oliver does not feel put out or confused by this fact. He is not exactly most humans either, and this kid is not going to put him off his game.
“Oh, I don’t think that’s entirely true, Ollie.” The kid is now grinning wildly, and yeah, he’s definitely amused. “I mean it’s not like I’m the first superhuman you’ve ever met. Arrow.”
Oliver move fast, but the kid is faster. By the time Oliver’s up and ready to put him through the wall, the kid is on the other side of the apartment, still grinning.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa man. I’m not a threat, I’m a fan.”
“What?” The word is bitten off, and Oliver can practically feel the hood he’s not wearing framing his face. One word, one wrong word, and however fast this kid is, he’s not leaving here with his jaw intact.
“I’m a fan. I was here, ya know, to help Kal… well… we’re here to help Kal, but Imra’s off drooling over Lana, and Rokk’s talking ethics with Kal back on the farm and I thought it’d be cool to meet you.” The kid is flushing by the end of speech, and the grin is gone replaced by a smile that is part sheepish, part guilty, and still part thrilled.
Oliver drops his shoulders, a little of the tension ebbing away. He doesn’t trust this kid, but very few bad guys, and even fewer burglars, blush.
“Who are you?”
“My name’s Garth. Or Lighting Lad, but you can call me Garth.” The kid, Garth, is all eagerness again, and Oliver fights down the smile that wants to break forth. Just because he’s not hostile, doesn’t mean he’s friendly.
“Okay, Garth, how do you know who I am, and what do you want?”
“Like I said, dude, I just wanted to meet you! I mean, your Green Arrow, man! Where I come from your legendary! Almost as legendary as Kal-El.”
‘Kal-El?’ Oliver thinks, “Where you come?” Oliver asks out loud.
“Oh yeah! Sorry, I forgot for a second, I’m from the 31st Century.”
Oliver does. not. stare. He reminds himself that he is grown man who nightly dresses in green leather and goes out to confront criminals with a bow and arrow. That three of the people he works with have metahuman abilities, while the other has a computer surgically grafted into him. And he’s not even about to get started on Clark. ‘A metahuman that claims the ability to travel in time is not worth goggling at’, he thinks, ‘though he might be worth recruiting.’
“The 31st Century.”
“Yup!”
“Where I’m a legend?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay then. And you came to see me… just to see me?”
“Well, yeah. The Green Arrow is legend for fighting all injustice, big and small, and you League of heroes is what Rokk, and Imra, and I based the Legion on. I guess you could say you’re sort of our hero. Well, besides Kal, of course.” The last is said with a kind of grinning, aw shucks; don’t pay any attention to that man behind the curtain, mentality that is supposed to throw one off the scent. Oliver picks up on it like a bloodhound.
“Kal. You mentioned him earlier. Who is he?” Oliver grins the question, and Garth grins right back and opens his mouth.
“Kal is just another name for Supe…”
“Garth!”
The voice cracks through the room like a whip. Oliver starts, and a small part of him is pleased to note that Garth does too. Both turn to the open balcony doors where the owner of it stands, fury radiating off him like waves.
He’s dressed in black, hands on his hips, and is glaring at Garth like he’d like nothing more than to cross the room and smack him silly.
“What did we say about the timeline, and not screwing it up?”
Oliver turns to look at Garth and sees the delight in his face has dimmed and the guilt has grown exponentially.
“Sorry, Rokk. I just, wanted to meet him. I mean, your such a fan, and I thought…”
“I don’t care what you thought, Garth. History is not to be played with!”
Oliver sees Garth flinch, and feels a stab of… something like anger and disappointment. The kid, for all his craziness, isn’t actually bad. “Hey, Rokk is it? He didn’t actually say anything except that he knew who I was.”
“Yeah! It’s not like I said anything about the epic love between him and Kal or…”
“Garth! Try to keep AC out of DC for even a minute!”
Garth subsides, and Oliver tries very hard to look like he’s never heard the words epic, love, or Kal before in his life.
Rokk glares at Oliver, and Oliver meets him eye for eye. “Come on Garth we’re leaving.”
Garth crosses the apartment, and pauses in front of Oliver. “It really was awesome to meet you.” Then he joins Rokk on the balcony.
Oliver goes to the doorway, and tries very, very hard not to stare as both Garth and Rokk lift into the air and fly away. He fails.
‘What the hell just happened?’ he thinks ‘And who the hell is Kal?’
The trilling of his cell phone breaks the silence in the apartment behind him; Oliver turns from his contemplation of the now empty sky and goes back inside. As he picks up his phone he checks the display and smiles.
It’s Clark.
So there you are hon. I hope you like it okay.