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thejusticelounge2015-01-05 08:54 am
bossymarmalade) wrote in thejusticelounge2015-01-05 08:54 am
a toast, a toast
Bruce arrives at the Star City Penthouse by zeta, in a black t-shirt, leather jacket and jeans, boots muddied around the edges (but he doesn’t track any of it in), and a bottle of champagne in hand.
Ollie has been dawdling around in his office, attempting to sort out what in the stacks of mail he’s let pile up he can actually throw out and what he should keep. The same goes for a number of newsletters from organic market shares and the like, and he’s standing in the middle of his office surrounded by the garish chairs he’d gotten (one for each member of WSQ) piled high with papers. “Oh thank god,” he says when he sees Bruce, going over and kissing the other man while simultaneously grabbing for the champagne. “I was just about to set fire to the room and solve my problems that way.”
Bruce returns the kiss, softly at first, before he can release the bottle of champagne, and when his hands are free, he moves one around Ollie’s waist, the other curling around his jaw and holding him in place against him, as he deepens the kiss.
Ollie settles a bit, when Bruce holds him still for kissing, and he rolls the champagne bottle against one shoulderblade through the leather jacket as he throws his arm around Bruce. “It’s good to see you too,” he says, when they pause for breath. “I hear you’ve been working yourself to the bone.”
Bruce smirks, lingering closely to Ollie’s mouth, his grip unrelenting. “When am I not,” he drawls, lowly, licking his lips before he kisses Ollie again, and determines. “..pineapple.”
Ollie nods, an answer to both remarks, and licks his own lips too as if confirming. “Yup. Was one of my resolutions, you could say. Isn’t that delightful of me?”
Bruce doesn’t answer Ollie, and move his hand from around his jaw to his temple, fingers smoothing into the hair above his ear, pushing behind it. “..alright?” He asks, softly, not adjusting their proximity.
Ollie is puzzled for a moment, and then remembers — the gala, the scampering, the day spent on Mirepoire. “All right,” he says, smiling. There’s nothing in his voice that says otherwise. “It did me good.”
Bruce nods, and releases Ollie then, walking over towards the kitchen, the long edges of his hair rustling around the collar of the jacket in a way that is not altogether displeasing. He goes for the cabinet, and after some rustling, finds what’s clean: a wine glass, a Collins glass, and a coffee mug that says “#1 Grandpa”; he brings them all over to the counter.
"Kate gets that one," Ollie says, pointing at the coffee mug. He goes to the fridge and takes out some watermelon, then starts cutting up a mango — "No point going somewhere tropical if you don’t bring back the fruits, amirite?" — and stands next to Bruce at the counter, companionably. "Should we do shop talk, or talk about the lakehouse, or should I just natter on until you feel like jumping in?"
KSpenz wanders into Ollie’s office, slightly tipsy, wine bottle dangling from her fingers, wearing a light cardigan, a t-shirt, and jeans. She’s barefoot, her hair curling and wild as she’d let it airdry after her shower this morning. To be honest, she’s only slightly surprised to see Bruce there, amidst Ollie and the paperwork and the impromptu bar. “Hey,” she says to them both, and can’t help but smile, softly, sweetly. “Hey.”
"The gang’s all here," Ollie says cheerfully, mouth already full of mango.
Bruce grunts in response to Ollie’s inquiries—all the options—before he stops what he’s doing—looking for something else in the cabinets—and walks over to Kate. His hand smooths over her waist, winding to the small of her back, and leans in to kiss her, just as softly as he had Ollie, lingering there against the taste of the wine on her lips and tongue.
Ollie blinks, a somewhat unreadable expression on his face as he watches the two of them kissing, dark hair tangling in the long places, the places where it curls.
KSpenz wriggles just a little at the kiss, a pleased wiggle of the sort she’d hide if she weren’t drinking. She lets her fingers brush against the wrist of Bruce’s jacket when she eases away, wanders over to Ollie to set the bottle down on the bar and snag some fruit for herself.
Ollie rubs the back of his neck. “So,” he starts, “I guess I should explain?”
Bruce smirks, his lips turning up at the corner, turning into a smile as he walks over to the champagne bottle. “If you want.” Unwrapping the foil, twisting the metal cap off, he sets both down on the counter. “I didn’t bring my sword..” He murmurs, smirking, and then promptly, pops the cork off the bottle, filling the three cups he’d found.
"I’d like to know," clarifies Kate, though her tone is gentle, wanting to clarify that Bruce’s laconic ‘if you want’ doesn’t apply to her. She eyes the three cups with a lifted eyebrow (clearly no one ever does dishes in this part of the house) before turning to Ollie.
Bruce hands Ollie the wine glass, Kate, the mug, keeping the Collins glass for himself as he turns to look at Kate, then Oliver, taking a short breath in.
Ollie spreads his hands. “Nothing much to it, really,” he says with a dismissive shrug. “I was feeling kinda unsteady what with things that’ve been happening — um, the starting-to-remember-the-past kinds of things, and I called my old therapist back in Seattle and had a chat with her. She told me some stuff I didn’t like hearing, but sitting on a beach with just Zee there helped me think about it more deeply and see that she had a point.” Ollie finishes in a rush, “So here I am having figured out some of my own shit and hopefully in a better place mentally to approach our relationship again!” He grabs for the wine glass and gulps the champagne down.
Bruce cants his head to the side as he listens to Oliver, and then, when Ollie gulps his champagne, feels his brow furrow the tiniest bit. “What did she tell you?”
KSpenz is slightly skeptical at being given the #1 Grandpa mug, but sips from it anyway because booze. She picks up more on the first thing that Ollie says, is faintly hurt that he didn’t say anything about it before and then realizes why he didn’t and feels stupid. “What Bruce said.”
Ollie pinches the stem of the glass between his fingers. “Uh she said I don’t have good skills at emotional regulation because of, y’know, childhood.” He waggles his fingers in a spooky way when he says ‘childhood’, and grimaces a little. “Anyhow. Also that when it comes to my partners, which is you two,” Ollie points from one to the other, as if they could have forgotten, “I tend to, uh, idealize you? Which I guess isn’t /that/ bad except that the minute you let me down in any way, y’know, even normal disappointments, I go to pieces. Which is kinda true.” He grins ruefully at them.
KSpenz quirks a wry smile in reply, though she’s more reading between the lines at what Ollie’s not saying—the parts that have little to do with her and Bruce directly, the parts from the past rather than the present. She may be taking notes. But what she actually says (and means) is, “I’m glad you’re back.”
Bruce takes a sip once the other two have drank, and while he had imagined toasting when opening the bottle, he doesn’t quite mind this occasion to christen it. He listens, but doesn’t offer conciliatory words or even noises: his attention is on Ollie, there’s no doubt. He holds his glass out, murmuring when Kate speaks. “So am I.” Then, his brow furrowing, he states. “I’ve never gotten to an anniversary, is this the first or the second?” He looks at the two of them, for an answer.
"It’s our second New Year’s," Ollie says, "although the whole relationship’s a few months older than that." He holds out his glass for more champagne. "You brought the bottle for that? To mark an anniversary?"
Bruce is halfway through refilling Ollie’s glass when he stops, blinking in a way that indicates he’s confused, and sets the bottle down, unsure of how to answer.
Ollie hastens to ameliorate: “It’s not a bad thing! I just wanted to know. If you consider this our second anniversary.”
Bruce clears his throat. “Isn’t that what’s done? Normally?” He isn’t sure, and suddenly realizes that it— He smiles, suddenly. “..or it may just have been how my parents celebrated.”
KSpenz had thought it was for New Year’s Day but is gonna roll with whatever, on both points. “It’s like…one and a half?” she says. “In a good way.”
Ollie grins big at them both. “Sure! This’ll be our way, then. Champagne wherever we happen to be and whatever we happen to be doing.” He holds up his half-full wineglass. “I’m shit at toasts, though.”
KSpenz holds up her not-quite-empty-but-close mug. “L’chaim,” she says, then laughs. “Sorry, I might have been watching Fiddler on the Roof. Hungover.”
Bruce ’s cheeks redden as he realizes something, and toasts, before refilling their glasses, shaking his head. “Hungover Fiddler on the Roof?” He replies, dryly. “That sounds dangerous.”
"It’s great as long as you keep the volume down." Kate leans over and brushes the back of her hand against Bruce’s cheek. "Come on, share," she says, hoping Ollie will join in, "you’re so cute when you blush."
Ollie hadn’t noticed the blush so much and peers more closely at Bruce. “You biting your tongue on something, dumpling?” he prods as well. “C’mon, no point holding back. Not with both of us here to wrangle it outta you.”
Bruce takes a healthy swallow of champagne. “You both don’t consider this our anniversary, but I did.” He doesn’t elaborate further than that, and turns around to continue searching through the cabinets before he settles on a box of pita chips.
Ollie snorts. “Beachhouse and English breakfasts are my marker, personally.”
Bruce glances at Kate.
"I like both," Kate says, and then reaches for the champagne to top up her mug. She sets down the bottle and waves her hand, gesturing, "And I’m not just being conciliatory, I see the merits of both and I say they are good."
"Why New Year’s, though, Bruce? Am I missing some esoteric meaningful event that happened?"
Bruce clears his throat, before he opens up the box and, innocently, reaches inside for a single pita chip. “WSQ,” he explains, simply, and then bites down on the chip, chewing as he looks at the two of them.
Ollie looks faintly sour once Bruce explains his personal marker and puts his wineglass down on the counter. “You might wanna choose something new, then,” he says. “Since I fucked up the whole enterprise and all.”
"If you’re bringing the champagne," says Kate, "I say you bring it for this one and Ollie for the beachhouse and I will more than happily drink to both."
Bruce takes another single pita chip out of the cellophane bag inside the box, when the first is done, and takes a breath in. “We should choose a date.”
KSpenz cocks her head a little.
"January 2nd," Ollie says.
KSpenz is slightly disturbed by Bruce eating One Chip At A Time, because that is not how people eat snack food, but she doesn’t let it distract her too much from the point at hand.
Bruce laughs.
KSpenz ”Why not, it’s a good date?”
Bruce shakes his head, and smiles, quietly at the two of them, his cheeks brightening again, as he takes another chip, a third. “..it’s fine.”
"Words, Bruce," Kate points out, though by now she’s more than ‘a little’ on the tipsy side.
Ollie laughs too, grinning, because he’s never been one to resist mirth when it’s going around. “Easy to remember and not as popular as the preceeding day, so we can have it all to ourselves,” he elaborates, then crams his mouth full of watermelon. This does not stop him from continuing, “…and chances are we’ll automatically be together already, even more convenient. For the sex part.”
Bruce looks up at the two of them, then, at Kate. “I love when I can enjoy his irreverence,” he explains, his voice quiet, before he looks at Ollie, and restates. “I love when you’re irreverent, Ollie.”
KSpenz grins cheekily and drops some mango into her mug so it gets all soppy with champagne before she eats it. “Was there a sex part? I like this notion already,” she points out, then laughs with pleasure at Bruce’s words.
Ollie stops chewing, his eyes slowly getting wider. He seems completely at a loss for what to do or how to swallow.
Bruce scowls. “The rest of the time, I want to punch you,” he adds, looking away from Ollie’s gaze, and back at the chips, taking another.
Ollie claps a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing the watermelon out, whirling to spit it into the sink instead. “Oh /gawd/,” he pants, coughing out a seed. “Oh jesus. That’s great. Oh my god, Bruce, I love you so much.”
"But you don’t, because that’s what love is about," says Kate, fishing out the mango piece, but fortunately she starts laughing at Ollie’s reaction before she eats it.
Bruce drops the scowl, which had served its purpose, because when Ollie says what he does, he steps forward, and towards the archer, ducking his head to litter the blond man’s temple with a few soft kisses. “..I love you,” he sighs, moving his hand against the archer’s back.
Ollie closes his eyes and smiles, chin hooked over Bruce’s shoulder. “That’s nice,” he murmurs. “I like hearing that. It sounds nice the way you say it.” He opens his eyes, one hand rubbing up through Bruce’s long curls as he lifts his nose towards Kate to get her attention. “Doesn’t it, Kate? Suits him. Down to the very last reverberation.”
KSpenz is eating the slice of mango, slowly, one bite after another, as she watches them fondly (and with a longing that doesn’t entirely abate even though she knows they are her boys). “It does,” she agrees, and smiles slowly.
Bruce reaches out his hand for Kate, turning to look at her, eyes nearly hollowed out by the longing in his own gaze.
KSpenz finishes the slice of fruit and slides off the chair. She walks over to them, takes Bruce’s hand, leans her head on Ollie’s shoulder, in close and not even caring.
Ollie puts his other hand on Kate’s waist, sliding down to her hip. “This is nice too,” he declares. “And tomorrow we’ll celebrate our anniversary. On January second.”
Bruce pulls her forward, and against him, his lips sliding against her temple, down to the curve of her cheek, kissing softly before he pulls back, looking into her eyes. “I love you.”
Bruce clears his throat. “May 28th.”
"What? Wait, what’s that?"
”That was the morning we ate breakfast at the Red Lion.”
KSpenz spreads her hand against Ollie’s back, feels her face heat as she murmurs “I love you back” to Bruce, and is about to say something to Ollie about ‘is that when there’s the sex part’ when Bruce says the date.
Ollie butts his forehead against Bruce’s nose. “Which I of course knew, but not as a literal calendar date, because I feel it inside. In my /heart/.” He tickles his fingers up Kate’s side to emphasize.
KSpenz says instead, quietly, “That was a good morning.” Which is, frankly, a massive understatement, considering the whole memory is metaphorically wrapped up in silk cloths somewhere in her mind, treasured and safeguarded by fierce guarddogs, and beloved though she doesn’t look at it much — because when she looks at it she feels like she will come apart into pieces or something like seeing the face of god, and maybe she is a little drunk, okay.
Bruce elaborates: “It’s one hundred and forty-six days between 2 January and 28 May, with 15 March marking the halfway point.” He kisses Kate’s temple, glancing over at Ollie. “..we can also choose the day I added you both to the security protocols in the Cave, which was the tenth of October.”
Ollie pulls back a little bit, looking at them both. “Orrrrrrrrr January second is a fantastic date,” he says.
Bruce kisses him. “..or January second is a fantastic date.”
Ollie nods, satisfied, and kisses them both before going back for more watermelon. “By the way,” he says, “I’m getting rid of those two purple chairs in my office.”
KSpenz is wondering why Ollie’s so keen on fruit at the moment, but she’s too busy enjoying the kissing. “The ones you insist we like?” she asks.
Bruce doesn’t release Kate, both of his arms moving around her waist from behind, the broadness of his chest cushioning her shoulders. He looks up at Ollie.
"Yes!" Ollie eats the melon more sensibly this time. "Yes. No more insisting. It’s a new year and they’re heading out the door and I want you both to choose chairs for yourselves to replace them. Chairs that /you/ like."
Bruce presses his lips to the top of Kate’s head, looking up from the halo of her hair. “I want my chair.”
Ollie clearly means ‘chairs that don’t look like refugee furniture from a cheap tourist souvenir stand in Puerto Vallarta’, but Kate waits to try and follow what Bruce means.
Ollie waves melon around, dripping juice, then puts it down to exchange for mango. “Bruce, it’s okay. Honestly. I don’t mind! I want you to have something you’ll be comfortable with, not the kinds of ridiculous things I choose.”
Bruce scowls at Oliver. “I want my chair.”
"You better keep the other one as well," says Kate. "Or it’ll feel left out." She is possibly tipsy enough to anthropomorphize chairs. KSpenz adds, "We just haven’t really broken them in properly."
"Kaaaaaate. You don’t have to keep yours, really truly cross my heart. You can find one you like. I mean, clearly it doesn’t matter so much if they match, hey?" He abandons the mango and finds Bruce’s box of pita chips, eating a few of those.
Bruce looks over at him, his head tilting again, slightly, to the right. “Do you want to get rid of them, Ollie?”
"It matters," says Kate, leaning back into Bruce a little bit.
Ollie munches. “It’s one of the things, y’know?” he explains. “I got them thinking you two would like them, and then they weren’t really to your taste, so instead of keeping them around I should move on and let them go.” He rubs the heel of his hand against his chin, scrubbing the hairs there. “I used to work at not putting any value in things because I moved around so much, and now I’m overcompensating the other way. I’m trying to find a balance.”
KSpenz leans back into Bruce a little more as the champagne has gone to her head. “I like knowing the chairs are there, though,” she admits, quietly. “Even if they aren’t my thing. I don’t know, it’s silly…”
Bruce ’s brow furrows. “I never said I didn’t like mine, but if you need to get them out of your house, I’ll take them to the Manor.” He kisses the back of Kate’s head, softly, hands flattening against her belly.
Ollie squints, thinking. “If you guys want them, I’ll leave them where they are,” he decides. “I don’t wanna force it. And also they’re kinda covered in paperwork right now so chances are I woulda got lazy and just shoved ‘em in another part of the house.” He puts down the box of pita chips with a thunk. “Should we go anywhere? For our anniversary.” Ollie looks over at Bruce. “What’s happening with the lakehouse?”
Bruce exhales. “The structural damage to the house was significant in the time it was.. neglected.” He scowls a bit, but then relaxes, pushing a hand through his hair. “I’m bringing in a crew to take care of the more civilian aspects this week, some foundation work.”
KSpenz is about to suggest going to Belize, but she keeps herself from doing so because she’s not that drunk. “How long do you think it’s going to take to get it up to speed?” she asks instead.
Bruce reaches for his Collins glass of champagne. “A few weeks. I’m making.. upgrades.”That piques Ollie’s interest, and he comes over to the two of them. “What kinds of upgrades? Sexy ones? Or boring safety ones?”
Bruce smirks at Oliver. “Do you want the surprise, or blueprints?”
"Oh, come on, Bruce, a sneak preview of one or two."
Ollie hops from foot to foot, clearly torn for an answer, so when Kate comes up with something in-between he nods and points at her.
Bruce exhales, and pulls back, reaching into his jacket for his phone. He unlocks it with his thumb, the easiest of the biometric locks, and begins swiping through files to get to some of the blueprints. The sketches are artfully intricate, the main room of the house circular in design, a few living areas in the one large place—a television that takes up most of a wall obvious— a large round fireplace in the center with low lying cushions around it, and a spiraling staircase at the far end where the hallways begin, the wall that it bisects strangely rough and gnarled. The next picture is of the staircase, that leads up, and outside, to an outside garden area, and further up, winding around a massive tree that runs through the cabin itself, and up into an enormous disc-like platform that wraps around the tree, enclosed glass; a treehouse, of sorts.
————————————————
Bruce stands outside on the patio with a large glass of water in hand, sipping from it as he looks down at Star City, sprawled out before him, twinkling and bright. He’s not dressed in much, a pair of black sleep pants and a white shirt, his bare toes curling against the concrete underfoot.
Ollie comes outside and leans against the patio railing, taking a drink from Bruce’s water glass. He doesn’t look at the city — it’s always there for him, whenever he wants it — and instead looks at Bruce, the line of his face, the way his clothes lie against his body. “Your hair’s getting long,” Ollie remarks, reaching out to tweak it. “You look all Game of Thrones.”
Bruce glances over at Ollie, smirking at the comment. “That a good thing or bad?” Handing Ollie the water, as he looks back at Star, he moves both his hands to curl around the railing. “..it’s quiet,” he remarks. “It took me some time to get used to the way it sounds out here.”
"We’re both getting used to each other’s homes." Ollie doesn’t add the rest of the sentiment, that they’re also getting used to being part of each other’s lives. "And it’s a good thing. You know how much I like the curls. And high fantasy."
Bruce doesn’t smirk, nor smile, when Ollie says this, and looks out at the city when he speaks next, his eyes focusing and unfocusing on the brightest part of the city—Star’s equivalent to Times Square—a good mile or two from where they were. “If there was one thing I could give you.. One thing I could do, what would it be?”
"That’s a helluva question, dumpling." Ollie reaches out, grasping Bruce’s arm. "You’re not … is there some reason you’re asking? Tell me what brought this on."
Bruce glances over at Ollie, turning his body so he’s giving the other man the respect the conversation deserves, and states simply: “Dr. Green.”
Ollie blinks, scratching his chest. “Oh. Well, uh … I mean, you know that wasn’t due to any failing on your part, okay? There was a lot going on with me and it’s not fair to dump all that on you and Kate. This way I can come at it from more even ground. So that’s what you can do for me, Bruce.” Ollie squeezes Bruce’s arm to emphasize. “Just don’t let me go through this alone. I’ll need you.”
Bruce shakes his head. “No, thinking about her, and about..” Bruce smirks now, glancing out at the city. “About Dinah.” Her name in his mouth puckers the edges of his lips, like something bitter, or perhaps, like the ghost of a kiss, but he doesn’t shy away.
Ollie frowns a little now, losing the trail of Bruce’s byzantine thought process. “About how she was Dinah’s therapist too?” he asks. “Did she talk to you about it? Or Barbara, more like.” Ollie figures that’s where the crossover happened, if at all, but then he shakes his head, poking Bruce’s shoulder. “Tell me. I keep speculating and I’m probably way off the mark.”
Bruce looks over at Ollie, and can’t help the way his mouth curves into something before a laugh, even as he steps over, and reaches out to take Ollie’s hand, curling his fingers through the archer’s. “I’m not the kind of person who looks too far into the future when it comes to human beings, Ollie. I try to..” He looks out at the city, taking in a deep, heavy breath. “I try to safeguard against mistakes, from what I know of their nature, but even then, I’ve been dealt surprises in places I never expected..” He trails off, when he realizes he’s winding around, being circumlocutious. He looks back at the other man. “I never would have pictured a future without the two of you, side by side.”
Bruce grits his teeth, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he glances down at the pickup of a breeze, ruffling through his hair. “I want to be better. For you.” Bruce rolls his thumb against the top of Ollie’s hand, watching it now, as if it held all of the secrets of the universe within it.
Ollie follows the path of that breeze with his fingers, dragging his hand down the back of Bruce’s neck as he turns the other one to clasp against Bruce’s palm. “We’ll do it together,” he promises. “I want all of it to be better. And, I mean — we’re both learning, Bruce. I might sound like I know what I’m talking about because I never shut the fuck up, but a ton of this is new for me, too.” Ollie scrunches Bruce’s hand in his. “I don’t wanna be something that needs to be solved, is all. I want that future with you.”
Bruce moves closer to the other man, until they are almost touching, and he moves his free hand against the archer’s neck, tracing the line of tendons and muscles, lifting his eyes to Ollie’s. “Will you answer me?” He is half-mumbling, as he watches the other man’s mouth. “Tell me?”
Ollie quirks an eyebrow, grabbing the back of Bruce’s neck and shaking him as if he’s scruffed a big cat. “I thought I had! Bruce, I just need you to talk to me and help me work through shit.” He twists his mouth. “Unless your question was about something more specific…?”
Bruce smiles. “That was it?” He laughs, lowly, and leans forward, until he presses his forehead against the archer’s. His hand moves again, tracing the other man’s mouth, gently, as he inhales, exhales.
"That was it?" Ollie repeats, thumping his fist against the knob at the top of Bruce’s spine. "Yeah, yeah, that was it, bucko! Don’t be so blase, you have nooooo idea how much attention I truly need. This is gonna be a twenny-four-seven job. Say goodbye to anything else you do in life."
Bruce chuckles. “I should.” The thought sobers him, the tiniest bit, and he moves his hand to curl around the base of Ollie’s neck, swallowing, as he watches the other man’s face, taking in the sight of him. He looks for new scars, new freckles, even as he thinks about what that would mean, a life away from who he is in Gotham.
There /are/ new freckles, left over from the sunburn he’d gotten in Mirepoire; they form a new topography for Bruce to memorize and add to what he already knows. Ollie clasps Bruce’s face and kisses him, soundly. “One day, baby,” he says. “When you’re decrepit and I’m too fat to sling a bow. But till then, I’m gonna make whatever demands I can on your time and attention. And you better know that you got mine too.”
Bruce nods, but his attitude has sobered as he turns back around, setting both of his arms on top of the railing as he looks back at Star City, taking in a deep breath. “I’m tired, Ollie,” Bruce states, simply, and allows the word to hang here in the air, so far from Gotham, just barely /breathed/, so that maybe she won’t hear him, come back like a jealous lover.
Ollie watches the way the light shifts across Bruce’s face, the lines it highlights, the touches of grey in his hair. “Yeah,” he says. “What can I do to make it better?” He reaches over and rubs his fingertips over Bruce’s knuckles. “Maybe you need a recharge. Or a break.”
Bruce looks over at him, his eyes bright in the darkness, the light that reflects up from the streetlamp, car lights, the bustling, living city below them. In the breath of a few seconds, he ages before Ollie’s eyes, his lips parting as he speaks, his voice bedraggled, slung against the harshness of the thoughts that swell within him. “..tell me they don’t need me. Tell me I won’t make a difference.”
Ollie bites down on the insides of his cheeks to keep from blurting it out, parroting Bruce’s words in as convincing a voice as he can manage (which is pretty fucking convincing, him being who he is). “…I’m sorry,” Ollie says instead. “It’s a heavy burden, but it’s yours. You make a difference every goddamn day, B.”
Bruce looks back at Star City, this foreign lover of his now, bright and quiet in the night air. The wind picks up again, the temperature shifting and Bruce exhales as he looks down at the concrete floor. “..let’s go inside,” he murmurs, hands unclenching from the railing as he turns around, walks towards the sliding glass door.
Ollie almost calls Bruce back, the same whirling impulse that sent him and Zee running out the door of their own gala and into the arms of sun and sand kicking up and making Ollie want to take Bruce away too, grab him and Kate up and spirit them all away to Belize, to the Alps, to anywhere. Anything else. But instead he follows, loping forward to bump up next to his partner and wrap an arm around his waist. “I can’t make it go away,” Ollie says, “but I can do my best to make it better for you. I promise.”
Bruce turns, and /crushes/ his mouth to Ollie’s, his arms winding around him as he lifts him up, off his feet, tongue slicking into the archer’s mouth.
Ollie has been dawdling around in his office, attempting to sort out what in the stacks of mail he’s let pile up he can actually throw out and what he should keep. The same goes for a number of newsletters from organic market shares and the like, and he’s standing in the middle of his office surrounded by the garish chairs he’d gotten (one for each member of WSQ) piled high with papers. “Oh thank god,” he says when he sees Bruce, going over and kissing the other man while simultaneously grabbing for the champagne. “I was just about to set fire to the room and solve my problems that way.”
Bruce returns the kiss, softly at first, before he can release the bottle of champagne, and when his hands are free, he moves one around Ollie’s waist, the other curling around his jaw and holding him in place against him, as he deepens the kiss.
Ollie settles a bit, when Bruce holds him still for kissing, and he rolls the champagne bottle against one shoulderblade through the leather jacket as he throws his arm around Bruce. “It’s good to see you too,” he says, when they pause for breath. “I hear you’ve been working yourself to the bone.”
Bruce smirks, lingering closely to Ollie’s mouth, his grip unrelenting. “When am I not,” he drawls, lowly, licking his lips before he kisses Ollie again, and determines. “..pineapple.”
Ollie nods, an answer to both remarks, and licks his own lips too as if confirming. “Yup. Was one of my resolutions, you could say. Isn’t that delightful of me?”
Bruce doesn’t answer Ollie, and move his hand from around his jaw to his temple, fingers smoothing into the hair above his ear, pushing behind it. “..alright?” He asks, softly, not adjusting their proximity.
Ollie is puzzled for a moment, and then remembers — the gala, the scampering, the day spent on Mirepoire. “All right,” he says, smiling. There’s nothing in his voice that says otherwise. “It did me good.”
Bruce nods, and releases Ollie then, walking over towards the kitchen, the long edges of his hair rustling around the collar of the jacket in a way that is not altogether displeasing. He goes for the cabinet, and after some rustling, finds what’s clean: a wine glass, a Collins glass, and a coffee mug that says “#1 Grandpa”; he brings them all over to the counter.
"Kate gets that one," Ollie says, pointing at the coffee mug. He goes to the fridge and takes out some watermelon, then starts cutting up a mango — "No point going somewhere tropical if you don’t bring back the fruits, amirite?" — and stands next to Bruce at the counter, companionably. "Should we do shop talk, or talk about the lakehouse, or should I just natter on until you feel like jumping in?"
KSpenz wanders into Ollie’s office, slightly tipsy, wine bottle dangling from her fingers, wearing a light cardigan, a t-shirt, and jeans. She’s barefoot, her hair curling and wild as she’d let it airdry after her shower this morning. To be honest, she’s only slightly surprised to see Bruce there, amidst Ollie and the paperwork and the impromptu bar. “Hey,” she says to them both, and can’t help but smile, softly, sweetly. “Hey.”
"The gang’s all here," Ollie says cheerfully, mouth already full of mango.
Bruce grunts in response to Ollie’s inquiries—all the options—before he stops what he’s doing—looking for something else in the cabinets—and walks over to Kate. His hand smooths over her waist, winding to the small of her back, and leans in to kiss her, just as softly as he had Ollie, lingering there against the taste of the wine on her lips and tongue.
Ollie blinks, a somewhat unreadable expression on his face as he watches the two of them kissing, dark hair tangling in the long places, the places where it curls.
KSpenz wriggles just a little at the kiss, a pleased wiggle of the sort she’d hide if she weren’t drinking. She lets her fingers brush against the wrist of Bruce’s jacket when she eases away, wanders over to Ollie to set the bottle down on the bar and snag some fruit for herself.
Ollie rubs the back of his neck. “So,” he starts, “I guess I should explain?”
Bruce smirks, his lips turning up at the corner, turning into a smile as he walks over to the champagne bottle. “If you want.” Unwrapping the foil, twisting the metal cap off, he sets both down on the counter. “I didn’t bring my sword..” He murmurs, smirking, and then promptly, pops the cork off the bottle, filling the three cups he’d found.
"I’d like to know," clarifies Kate, though her tone is gentle, wanting to clarify that Bruce’s laconic ‘if you want’ doesn’t apply to her. She eyes the three cups with a lifted eyebrow (clearly no one ever does dishes in this part of the house) before turning to Ollie.
Bruce hands Ollie the wine glass, Kate, the mug, keeping the Collins glass for himself as he turns to look at Kate, then Oliver, taking a short breath in.
Ollie spreads his hands. “Nothing much to it, really,” he says with a dismissive shrug. “I was feeling kinda unsteady what with things that’ve been happening — um, the starting-to-remember-the-past kinds of things, and I called my old therapist back in Seattle and had a chat with her. She told me some stuff I didn’t like hearing, but sitting on a beach with just Zee there helped me think about it more deeply and see that she had a point.” Ollie finishes in a rush, “So here I am having figured out some of my own shit and hopefully in a better place mentally to approach our relationship again!” He grabs for the wine glass and gulps the champagne down.
Bruce cants his head to the side as he listens to Oliver, and then, when Ollie gulps his champagne, feels his brow furrow the tiniest bit. “What did she tell you?”
KSpenz is slightly skeptical at being given the #1 Grandpa mug, but sips from it anyway because booze. She picks up more on the first thing that Ollie says, is faintly hurt that he didn’t say anything about it before and then realizes why he didn’t and feels stupid. “What Bruce said.”
Ollie pinches the stem of the glass between his fingers. “Uh she said I don’t have good skills at emotional regulation because of, y’know, childhood.” He waggles his fingers in a spooky way when he says ‘childhood’, and grimaces a little. “Anyhow. Also that when it comes to my partners, which is you two,” Ollie points from one to the other, as if they could have forgotten, “I tend to, uh, idealize you? Which I guess isn’t /that/ bad except that the minute you let me down in any way, y’know, even normal disappointments, I go to pieces. Which is kinda true.” He grins ruefully at them.
KSpenz quirks a wry smile in reply, though she’s more reading between the lines at what Ollie’s not saying—the parts that have little to do with her and Bruce directly, the parts from the past rather than the present. She may be taking notes. But what she actually says (and means) is, “I’m glad you’re back.”
Bruce takes a sip once the other two have drank, and while he had imagined toasting when opening the bottle, he doesn’t quite mind this occasion to christen it. He listens, but doesn’t offer conciliatory words or even noises: his attention is on Ollie, there’s no doubt. He holds his glass out, murmuring when Kate speaks. “So am I.” Then, his brow furrowing, he states. “I’ve never gotten to an anniversary, is this the first or the second?” He looks at the two of them, for an answer.
"It’s our second New Year’s," Ollie says, "although the whole relationship’s a few months older than that." He holds out his glass for more champagne. "You brought the bottle for that? To mark an anniversary?"
Bruce is halfway through refilling Ollie’s glass when he stops, blinking in a way that indicates he’s confused, and sets the bottle down, unsure of how to answer.
Ollie hastens to ameliorate: “It’s not a bad thing! I just wanted to know. If you consider this our second anniversary.”
Bruce clears his throat. “Isn’t that what’s done? Normally?” He isn’t sure, and suddenly realizes that it— He smiles, suddenly. “..or it may just have been how my parents celebrated.”
KSpenz had thought it was for New Year’s Day but is gonna roll with whatever, on both points. “It’s like…one and a half?” she says. “In a good way.”
Ollie grins big at them both. “Sure! This’ll be our way, then. Champagne wherever we happen to be and whatever we happen to be doing.” He holds up his half-full wineglass. “I’m shit at toasts, though.”
KSpenz holds up her not-quite-empty-but-close mug. “L’chaim,” she says, then laughs. “Sorry, I might have been watching Fiddler on the Roof. Hungover.”
Bruce ’s cheeks redden as he realizes something, and toasts, before refilling their glasses, shaking his head. “Hungover Fiddler on the Roof?” He replies, dryly. “That sounds dangerous.”
"It’s great as long as you keep the volume down." Kate leans over and brushes the back of her hand against Bruce’s cheek. "Come on, share," she says, hoping Ollie will join in, "you’re so cute when you blush."
Ollie hadn’t noticed the blush so much and peers more closely at Bruce. “You biting your tongue on something, dumpling?” he prods as well. “C’mon, no point holding back. Not with both of us here to wrangle it outta you.”
Bruce takes a healthy swallow of champagne. “You both don’t consider this our anniversary, but I did.” He doesn’t elaborate further than that, and turns around to continue searching through the cabinets before he settles on a box of pita chips.
Ollie snorts. “Beachhouse and English breakfasts are my marker, personally.”
Bruce glances at Kate.
"I like both," Kate says, and then reaches for the champagne to top up her mug. She sets down the bottle and waves her hand, gesturing, "And I’m not just being conciliatory, I see the merits of both and I say they are good."
"Why New Year’s, though, Bruce? Am I missing some esoteric meaningful event that happened?"
Bruce clears his throat, before he opens up the box and, innocently, reaches inside for a single pita chip. “WSQ,” he explains, simply, and then bites down on the chip, chewing as he looks at the two of them.
Ollie looks faintly sour once Bruce explains his personal marker and puts his wineglass down on the counter. “You might wanna choose something new, then,” he says. “Since I fucked up the whole enterprise and all.”
"If you’re bringing the champagne," says Kate, "I say you bring it for this one and Ollie for the beachhouse and I will more than happily drink to both."
Bruce takes another single pita chip out of the cellophane bag inside the box, when the first is done, and takes a breath in. “We should choose a date.”
KSpenz cocks her head a little.
"January 2nd," Ollie says.
KSpenz is slightly disturbed by Bruce eating One Chip At A Time, because that is not how people eat snack food, but she doesn’t let it distract her too much from the point at hand.
Bruce laughs.
KSpenz ”Why not, it’s a good date?”
Bruce shakes his head, and smiles, quietly at the two of them, his cheeks brightening again, as he takes another chip, a third. “..it’s fine.”
"Words, Bruce," Kate points out, though by now she’s more than ‘a little’ on the tipsy side.
Ollie laughs too, grinning, because he’s never been one to resist mirth when it’s going around. “Easy to remember and not as popular as the preceeding day, so we can have it all to ourselves,” he elaborates, then crams his mouth full of watermelon. This does not stop him from continuing, “…and chances are we’ll automatically be together already, even more convenient. For the sex part.”
Bruce looks up at the two of them, then, at Kate. “I love when I can enjoy his irreverence,” he explains, his voice quiet, before he looks at Ollie, and restates. “I love when you’re irreverent, Ollie.”
KSpenz grins cheekily and drops some mango into her mug so it gets all soppy with champagne before she eats it. “Was there a sex part? I like this notion already,” she points out, then laughs with pleasure at Bruce’s words.
Ollie stops chewing, his eyes slowly getting wider. He seems completely at a loss for what to do or how to swallow.
Bruce scowls. “The rest of the time, I want to punch you,” he adds, looking away from Ollie’s gaze, and back at the chips, taking another.
Ollie claps a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing the watermelon out, whirling to spit it into the sink instead. “Oh /gawd/,” he pants, coughing out a seed. “Oh jesus. That’s great. Oh my god, Bruce, I love you so much.”
"But you don’t, because that’s what love is about," says Kate, fishing out the mango piece, but fortunately she starts laughing at Ollie’s reaction before she eats it.
Bruce drops the scowl, which had served its purpose, because when Ollie says what he does, he steps forward, and towards the archer, ducking his head to litter the blond man’s temple with a few soft kisses. “..I love you,” he sighs, moving his hand against the archer’s back.
Ollie closes his eyes and smiles, chin hooked over Bruce’s shoulder. “That’s nice,” he murmurs. “I like hearing that. It sounds nice the way you say it.” He opens his eyes, one hand rubbing up through Bruce’s long curls as he lifts his nose towards Kate to get her attention. “Doesn’t it, Kate? Suits him. Down to the very last reverberation.”
KSpenz is eating the slice of mango, slowly, one bite after another, as she watches them fondly (and with a longing that doesn’t entirely abate even though she knows they are her boys). “It does,” she agrees, and smiles slowly.
Bruce reaches out his hand for Kate, turning to look at her, eyes nearly hollowed out by the longing in his own gaze.
KSpenz finishes the slice of fruit and slides off the chair. She walks over to them, takes Bruce’s hand, leans her head on Ollie’s shoulder, in close and not even caring.
Ollie puts his other hand on Kate’s waist, sliding down to her hip. “This is nice too,” he declares. “And tomorrow we’ll celebrate our anniversary. On January second.”
Bruce pulls her forward, and against him, his lips sliding against her temple, down to the curve of her cheek, kissing softly before he pulls back, looking into her eyes. “I love you.”
Bruce clears his throat. “May 28th.”
"What? Wait, what’s that?"
”That was the morning we ate breakfast at the Red Lion.”
KSpenz spreads her hand against Ollie’s back, feels her face heat as she murmurs “I love you back” to Bruce, and is about to say something to Ollie about ‘is that when there’s the sex part’ when Bruce says the date.
Ollie butts his forehead against Bruce’s nose. “Which I of course knew, but not as a literal calendar date, because I feel it inside. In my /heart/.” He tickles his fingers up Kate’s side to emphasize.
KSpenz says instead, quietly, “That was a good morning.” Which is, frankly, a massive understatement, considering the whole memory is metaphorically wrapped up in silk cloths somewhere in her mind, treasured and safeguarded by fierce guarddogs, and beloved though she doesn’t look at it much — because when she looks at it she feels like she will come apart into pieces or something like seeing the face of god, and maybe she is a little drunk, okay.
Bruce elaborates: “It’s one hundred and forty-six days between 2 January and 28 May, with 15 March marking the halfway point.” He kisses Kate’s temple, glancing over at Ollie. “..we can also choose the day I added you both to the security protocols in the Cave, which was the tenth of October.”
Ollie pulls back a little bit, looking at them both. “Orrrrrrrrr January second is a fantastic date,” he says.
Bruce kisses him. “..or January second is a fantastic date.”
Ollie nods, satisfied, and kisses them both before going back for more watermelon. “By the way,” he says, “I’m getting rid of those two purple chairs in my office.”
KSpenz is wondering why Ollie’s so keen on fruit at the moment, but she’s too busy enjoying the kissing. “The ones you insist we like?” she asks.
Bruce doesn’t release Kate, both of his arms moving around her waist from behind, the broadness of his chest cushioning her shoulders. He looks up at Ollie.
"Yes!" Ollie eats the melon more sensibly this time. "Yes. No more insisting. It’s a new year and they’re heading out the door and I want you both to choose chairs for yourselves to replace them. Chairs that /you/ like."
Bruce presses his lips to the top of Kate’s head, looking up from the halo of her hair. “I want my chair.”
Ollie clearly means ‘chairs that don’t look like refugee furniture from a cheap tourist souvenir stand in Puerto Vallarta’, but Kate waits to try and follow what Bruce means.
Ollie waves melon around, dripping juice, then puts it down to exchange for mango. “Bruce, it’s okay. Honestly. I don’t mind! I want you to have something you’ll be comfortable with, not the kinds of ridiculous things I choose.”
Bruce scowls at Oliver. “I want my chair.”
"You better keep the other one as well," says Kate. "Or it’ll feel left out." She is possibly tipsy enough to anthropomorphize chairs. KSpenz adds, "We just haven’t really broken them in properly."
"Kaaaaaate. You don’t have to keep yours, really truly cross my heart. You can find one you like. I mean, clearly it doesn’t matter so much if they match, hey?" He abandons the mango and finds Bruce’s box of pita chips, eating a few of those.
Bruce looks over at him, his head tilting again, slightly, to the right. “Do you want to get rid of them, Ollie?”
"It matters," says Kate, leaning back into Bruce a little bit.
Ollie munches. “It’s one of the things, y’know?” he explains. “I got them thinking you two would like them, and then they weren’t really to your taste, so instead of keeping them around I should move on and let them go.” He rubs the heel of his hand against his chin, scrubbing the hairs there. “I used to work at not putting any value in things because I moved around so much, and now I’m overcompensating the other way. I’m trying to find a balance.”
KSpenz leans back into Bruce a little more as the champagne has gone to her head. “I like knowing the chairs are there, though,” she admits, quietly. “Even if they aren’t my thing. I don’t know, it’s silly…”
Bruce ’s brow furrows. “I never said I didn’t like mine, but if you need to get them out of your house, I’ll take them to the Manor.” He kisses the back of Kate’s head, softly, hands flattening against her belly.
Ollie squints, thinking. “If you guys want them, I’ll leave them where they are,” he decides. “I don’t wanna force it. And also they’re kinda covered in paperwork right now so chances are I woulda got lazy and just shoved ‘em in another part of the house.” He puts down the box of pita chips with a thunk. “Should we go anywhere? For our anniversary.” Ollie looks over at Bruce. “What’s happening with the lakehouse?”
Bruce exhales. “The structural damage to the house was significant in the time it was.. neglected.” He scowls a bit, but then relaxes, pushing a hand through his hair. “I’m bringing in a crew to take care of the more civilian aspects this week, some foundation work.”
KSpenz is about to suggest going to Belize, but she keeps herself from doing so because she’s not that drunk. “How long do you think it’s going to take to get it up to speed?” she asks instead.
Bruce reaches for his Collins glass of champagne. “A few weeks. I’m making.. upgrades.”That piques Ollie’s interest, and he comes over to the two of them. “What kinds of upgrades? Sexy ones? Or boring safety ones?”
Bruce smirks at Oliver. “Do you want the surprise, or blueprints?”
"Oh, come on, Bruce, a sneak preview of one or two."
Ollie hops from foot to foot, clearly torn for an answer, so when Kate comes up with something in-between he nods and points at her.
Bruce exhales, and pulls back, reaching into his jacket for his phone. He unlocks it with his thumb, the easiest of the biometric locks, and begins swiping through files to get to some of the blueprints. The sketches are artfully intricate, the main room of the house circular in design, a few living areas in the one large place—a television that takes up most of a wall obvious— a large round fireplace in the center with low lying cushions around it, and a spiraling staircase at the far end where the hallways begin, the wall that it bisects strangely rough and gnarled. The next picture is of the staircase, that leads up, and outside, to an outside garden area, and further up, winding around a massive tree that runs through the cabin itself, and up into an enormous disc-like platform that wraps around the tree, enclosed glass; a treehouse, of sorts.
————————————————
Bruce stands outside on the patio with a large glass of water in hand, sipping from it as he looks down at Star City, sprawled out before him, twinkling and bright. He’s not dressed in much, a pair of black sleep pants and a white shirt, his bare toes curling against the concrete underfoot.
Ollie comes outside and leans against the patio railing, taking a drink from Bruce’s water glass. He doesn’t look at the city — it’s always there for him, whenever he wants it — and instead looks at Bruce, the line of his face, the way his clothes lie against his body. “Your hair’s getting long,” Ollie remarks, reaching out to tweak it. “You look all Game of Thrones.”
Bruce glances over at Ollie, smirking at the comment. “That a good thing or bad?” Handing Ollie the water, as he looks back at Star, he moves both his hands to curl around the railing. “..it’s quiet,” he remarks. “It took me some time to get used to the way it sounds out here.”
"We’re both getting used to each other’s homes." Ollie doesn’t add the rest of the sentiment, that they’re also getting used to being part of each other’s lives. "And it’s a good thing. You know how much I like the curls. And high fantasy."
Bruce doesn’t smirk, nor smile, when Ollie says this, and looks out at the city when he speaks next, his eyes focusing and unfocusing on the brightest part of the city—Star’s equivalent to Times Square—a good mile or two from where they were. “If there was one thing I could give you.. One thing I could do, what would it be?”
"That’s a helluva question, dumpling." Ollie reaches out, grasping Bruce’s arm. "You’re not … is there some reason you’re asking? Tell me what brought this on."
Bruce glances over at Ollie, turning his body so he’s giving the other man the respect the conversation deserves, and states simply: “Dr. Green.”
Ollie blinks, scratching his chest. “Oh. Well, uh … I mean, you know that wasn’t due to any failing on your part, okay? There was a lot going on with me and it’s not fair to dump all that on you and Kate. This way I can come at it from more even ground. So that’s what you can do for me, Bruce.” Ollie squeezes Bruce’s arm to emphasize. “Just don’t let me go through this alone. I’ll need you.”
Bruce shakes his head. “No, thinking about her, and about..” Bruce smirks now, glancing out at the city. “About Dinah.” Her name in his mouth puckers the edges of his lips, like something bitter, or perhaps, like the ghost of a kiss, but he doesn’t shy away.
Ollie frowns a little now, losing the trail of Bruce’s byzantine thought process. “About how she was Dinah’s therapist too?” he asks. “Did she talk to you about it? Or Barbara, more like.” Ollie figures that’s where the crossover happened, if at all, but then he shakes his head, poking Bruce’s shoulder. “Tell me. I keep speculating and I’m probably way off the mark.”
Bruce looks over at Ollie, and can’t help the way his mouth curves into something before a laugh, even as he steps over, and reaches out to take Ollie’s hand, curling his fingers through the archer’s. “I’m not the kind of person who looks too far into the future when it comes to human beings, Ollie. I try to..” He looks out at the city, taking in a deep, heavy breath. “I try to safeguard against mistakes, from what I know of their nature, but even then, I’ve been dealt surprises in places I never expected..” He trails off, when he realizes he’s winding around, being circumlocutious. He looks back at the other man. “I never would have pictured a future without the two of you, side by side.”
Bruce grits his teeth, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he glances down at the pickup of a breeze, ruffling through his hair. “I want to be better. For you.” Bruce rolls his thumb against the top of Ollie’s hand, watching it now, as if it held all of the secrets of the universe within it.
Ollie follows the path of that breeze with his fingers, dragging his hand down the back of Bruce’s neck as he turns the other one to clasp against Bruce’s palm. “We’ll do it together,” he promises. “I want all of it to be better. And, I mean — we’re both learning, Bruce. I might sound like I know what I’m talking about because I never shut the fuck up, but a ton of this is new for me, too.” Ollie scrunches Bruce’s hand in his. “I don’t wanna be something that needs to be solved, is all. I want that future with you.”
Bruce moves closer to the other man, until they are almost touching, and he moves his free hand against the archer’s neck, tracing the line of tendons and muscles, lifting his eyes to Ollie’s. “Will you answer me?” He is half-mumbling, as he watches the other man’s mouth. “Tell me?”
Ollie quirks an eyebrow, grabbing the back of Bruce’s neck and shaking him as if he’s scruffed a big cat. “I thought I had! Bruce, I just need you to talk to me and help me work through shit.” He twists his mouth. “Unless your question was about something more specific…?”
Bruce smiles. “That was it?” He laughs, lowly, and leans forward, until he presses his forehead against the archer’s. His hand moves again, tracing the other man’s mouth, gently, as he inhales, exhales.
"That was it?" Ollie repeats, thumping his fist against the knob at the top of Bruce’s spine. "Yeah, yeah, that was it, bucko! Don’t be so blase, you have nooooo idea how much attention I truly need. This is gonna be a twenny-four-seven job. Say goodbye to anything else you do in life."
Bruce chuckles. “I should.” The thought sobers him, the tiniest bit, and he moves his hand to curl around the base of Ollie’s neck, swallowing, as he watches the other man’s face, taking in the sight of him. He looks for new scars, new freckles, even as he thinks about what that would mean, a life away from who he is in Gotham.
There /are/ new freckles, left over from the sunburn he’d gotten in Mirepoire; they form a new topography for Bruce to memorize and add to what he already knows. Ollie clasps Bruce’s face and kisses him, soundly. “One day, baby,” he says. “When you’re decrepit and I’m too fat to sling a bow. But till then, I’m gonna make whatever demands I can on your time and attention. And you better know that you got mine too.”
Bruce nods, but his attitude has sobered as he turns back around, setting both of his arms on top of the railing as he looks back at Star City, taking in a deep breath. “I’m tired, Ollie,” Bruce states, simply, and allows the word to hang here in the air, so far from Gotham, just barely /breathed/, so that maybe she won’t hear him, come back like a jealous lover.
Ollie watches the way the light shifts across Bruce’s face, the lines it highlights, the touches of grey in his hair. “Yeah,” he says. “What can I do to make it better?” He reaches over and rubs his fingertips over Bruce’s knuckles. “Maybe you need a recharge. Or a break.”
Bruce looks over at him, his eyes bright in the darkness, the light that reflects up from the streetlamp, car lights, the bustling, living city below them. In the breath of a few seconds, he ages before Ollie’s eyes, his lips parting as he speaks, his voice bedraggled, slung against the harshness of the thoughts that swell within him. “..tell me they don’t need me. Tell me I won’t make a difference.”
Ollie bites down on the insides of his cheeks to keep from blurting it out, parroting Bruce’s words in as convincing a voice as he can manage (which is pretty fucking convincing, him being who he is). “…I’m sorry,” Ollie says instead. “It’s a heavy burden, but it’s yours. You make a difference every goddamn day, B.”
Bruce looks back at Star City, this foreign lover of his now, bright and quiet in the night air. The wind picks up again, the temperature shifting and Bruce exhales as he looks down at the concrete floor. “..let’s go inside,” he murmurs, hands unclenching from the railing as he turns around, walks towards the sliding glass door.
Ollie almost calls Bruce back, the same whirling impulse that sent him and Zee running out the door of their own gala and into the arms of sun and sand kicking up and making Ollie want to take Bruce away too, grab him and Kate up and spirit them all away to Belize, to the Alps, to anywhere. Anything else. But instead he follows, loping forward to bump up next to his partner and wrap an arm around his waist. “I can’t make it go away,” Ollie says, “but I can do my best to make it better for you. I promise.”
Bruce turns, and /crushes/ his mouth to Ollie’s, his arms winding around him as he lifts him up, off his feet, tongue slicking into the archer’s mouth.