Story: Never Say Goodbye
Pairing/Characters: Collie, Lollie, Chlimmy, Lexana, mentions of past Clana
Disclaimer: don’t own anything
Warning: slash, mentions of m/m sex
Spoilers: season 6, starts at 6x04, Arrow
Summary: That night at the penthouse was not the first time Clark met Oliver Queen. He has met him before but he just doesn’t remember where or when. But as the memories return, Clark finds out that his fateful summer in Metropolis is not as long gone as he thought it was.
When Clark entered the penthouse, he was stunned at the sight before him. Oliver was lifting weights, shirtless. He was relieved that the older man was okay but he couldn’t help it when his heart sped up at the sight of that golden skin.
No, now is not the time to think about that, Clark commanded himself. It was never a good time, as Oliver was dating one of his best friends, but this was a worse time than most.
Trying to remain cool, he approached the blonde. “You're looking awfully healthy.”
At the sound of his voice, Oliver carefully placed the weight back on its stand. He stood up and looked over at Clark.
“It’s called exercise Clark,” Oliver replied, “It's something we mere mortals have to do from time to time.”
His tone was cold and Clark figured he was still angry at him. Fair enough. He moved on to the real reason he was there.
“According to the Daily Planet, the Green Arrow was shot last night,” Clark told him.
Oliver had picked up a black tank top. “If I was shot, don't you think I'd be laying in a hospital or a morgue?” he asked, slipping the shirt on. “I'm not bulletproof like you are, Clark. Besides, you of all people should know better than to believe everything you read in the newspaper.”
“It's the Daily Planet, not the Inquisitor,” Clark retorted. “A witness saw you lying in a pool of blood.” He couldn’t help but soften his voice at the end, unable to hide his concern.
“Well, maybe it was someone else with a preference for green,” Oliver suggested.
Clark was about to respond when his eyes wandered and fell on a familiar suit. “What's your Green Arrow gear doing out in the middle of the room?”
“I'm uploading a video,” he told him. Oliver picked up the black glasses and pointed to the screen. “Check this out.” He aimed the glasses at him and Clark saw himself on the screen. “See that? Now I've got footage of the scumbags, so if they try to get away, I can track them down.”
But Clark was not impressed. “Oliver, you're getting sloppy. Your gear is out in the middle of the room, the door is unlocked. That could have been Lois coming through the door.”
“You know, I've had a lot on my mind lately, all right?” Oliver said, anger creeping into his tone. “Apparently, you were too busy using your powers to bale hay than to realize there's a crime wave in Metropolis.”
He glared at Clark. “Let me ask you a question. Are you ever going to get off your ass and finally do something for a change?”
Clark was shocked by his cold tone. “I didn’t come here to be insulted.”
“Well you know what?” Oliver said, “There’s the door. I don’t remember you being invited.”
“Oliver, what’s going on with you?” Clark asked.
“Clark, I don't need to take advice from someone whose only worry in life is to protect his own identity,” he replied.
“That’s a lie,” Clark said, “You know it.”
“Let me tell you something,” Oliver yelled, “When I'm out there, when I'm out on the streets, I'm protecting people, all right? I got much bigger things to worry about . . . like staying alive!”
At this final declaration, he closed his palm around the glass he was holding, shattering it. Clark watched as Oliver looked down at his palm, which was bleeding.
“You okay?” Clark asked.
“I’m fine,” Oliver muttered, wrapping a towel around the wound. “Just get out of here.”
“You sure?” he tried again.
“GO!” Oliver snapped, pointing to the door.
Realizing he wasn’t getting anywhere, Clark shot Oliver a look and headed to the elevator. The doors closed but Clark couldn’t resist. He used his x-ray vision and what he saw had him stunned. Oliver had pulled out a syringe and just injected himself with some substance.
But that’s all he saw, because the elevator began to descend, removing Oliver from his view. Oliver was doing drugs? If he hadn’t seen it first hand, he wouldn’t have believed it. Now he had some work to do.
His next stop was to see Lois. Oliver’s quick temper must be coming from whatever drug he was on and he had to warn Lois.
Lois, being the stubborn, hardheaded person he knew her to be, refused to back down after her gave her the warning. The minute he told her that Oliver may be taking drugs, she decided she would go see him and nothing he could say could stop her.
So he did the next best thing. He broke into Oliver’s apartment when was gone and found the syringe that he used. Only one person could help him now.
Chloe was as shocked as he was. “I take it this wasn't a party favor,” she said, taking the syringe.
“I broke into his apartment,” Clark admitted. “There might be some residue still left on it.”
“I'd call Oliver Queen a lot of things, but I never thought I'd call him a junkie,” Chloe said.
“Chloe, I don’t think he’s getting high,” Clark said.
“Come on, Clark,” Chloe argued. “You of all people should know that everyone has their secrets. Besides, it's not that much of a stretch to think that a jet-setting billionaire might have a little habit to hide.”
“Can you just get it checked out?” Clark asked. “We'll know for sure.” He was positive this had something to do with Oliver’s secret identity. Something in him just knew Oliver wasn’t taking drugs for recreational purposes.
“I'll text my bio-chem buddy at Met U,” Chloe told him. “Hopefully he hasn't left for Thanksgiving already.”
She peered at him. “Clark, what’s going on between you and Oliver?”
He frowned. “Me and Oliver? Nothing, why?”
“I don’t know,” Chloe said, “You just seem to be taking such an interest in his life and you are so concerned about him right now . . .”
“Chloe, I’m worried about Lois, nothing else,” Clark said, “If Oliver is taking drugs, he could be dangerous to her and I don’t want to see her get hurt.”
“All right, all right,” Chloe said, raising her hands. “But you know that if you need to talk, I’m here, right?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I know. Thanks, Chlo.” She smiled. He trusted his best friend with his secret, with his life but this was just something he wasn’t ready to confess.
Then he was struck with a question. “Hey, that Green Arrow story,” Clark said, changing the topic. “Did that victim actually see him get shot?”
“No,” Chloe said. “But the people that own the car did come forward and say that he saved them from a carjacking that night. He hasn't been spotted since.”
This was not good news. Oliver took his job as the Green Arrow very seriously. If he wasn’t showing up, that means these drugs must have really messed with his mind.
Chloe suddenly seemed to get nervous. “Um, so I'm just going to get this syringe to my chemist. Why don't you head out, and I will get a hold of you as soon as I find anything?” She was pushing him toward the elevator.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Clark asked suspiciously.
“No!” Chloe said, looking shocked. “Why would I want to do that?”
An accidental glance to his left made him realize exactly why she would want to get rid of him. Because coming down the stairs was none other than Lana. She looked over and met his gaze, also surprised to see him.
“Lana,” he said.
“Hi,” she replied.
“Us girls were just going to get some lunch,” Chloe explained.
“That’s great,” Clark said. “Uh, have a good time.” He entered the elevator and watched it close, only too happy to escape the very awkward situation.
When he saw Lana, his heart ached, but not as much as it used to. He felt more nostalgic than anything, a little saddened that their breakup cost him such a good friend.
He couldn’t help but wish that those feelings were still as strong as they used to be. Only because he knew the real reason that his love for Lana was fading fast. Oliver Queen had made an appearance in his life and once again, was slowly moving into his heart.
“So where exactly are we going?” Clark asked. They had been in the car for fifteen minutes now and still no sign of their destination.
“Relax, Green Eyes,” Oliver said, “We’re heading to a club. You act as if I am going to kill you and leave your body to rot somewhere.”
Clark rolled his eyes. “I’m just curious.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll be there shortly,” Oliver said. Clark didn’t answer, he just stared out the window, watching as they passed building after building. He needed a distraction because if he wasn’t looking somewhere else, he would just stare at Oliver.
That would not be good, since there was only a limited space and he didn’t want to do something he would regret. Finally, the limo came to a halt and Clark was only too relieved to get out.
“Here we are,” Oliver announced, following him out.
Clark took a look at the club. The Red Rose. Sounded interesting enough. The line was extremely long, so he assumed it must be popular. And if it was this popular, it had to be good, right?
“Come on,” Oliver told him. There were advantages to being Oliver Queen and being someone who was with Oliver Queen as well.
Because he found that neither one of them had to wait in line. Oliver flashed his ID and both of them were able to go right in.
“See,” Oliver said, “Aren’t you glad you came with me?” Clark only smiled, not saying a word.
He looked around. ‘Classy place’ were the first two words that popped in his head. Because it was.
If he thought Starlight was a nice club, this was much better. This place had a VIP area as well and this time he planned to steer clear of that part of the club. Besides, he would need Oliver to get up there and there was no way he was going there a second time with him.
“So what’s your plan?” Oliver voice brought him back to reality.
“I was thinking I may get a drink,” Clark said, “And then hit the dance floor.”
“Sounds good,” Oliver agreed. “I’ll come get a drink with you.” Oh great, did he plan to follow him all night?
He forced a smile. “Come along then.” Together, they walked to the bar.
Clark took a seat and annoyingly enough, Oliver took the one right next to him.
“What are you going to get?” Oliver asked.
“No clue,” Clark said, shrugging.
Oliver grinned. “Trust me enough to order for you?”
“Why not?” Clark said. When the bartender arrived, Oliver ordered two drinks, neither of which sounded familiar to him.
When their drinks arrived, Clark’s was a dark red color.
“I figured you liked red,” Oliver told him, “And I heard someone ordering this before . . . though you may like it.”
Clark took a sip and was shocked to feel a jolt run through his body. “It’s good. I’m impressed.” He frowned. “But how did you know I like red?”
“The ring on your finger,” Oliver said. Clark lifted his hand and saw the ring that he had been so trying to avoid, because he knew that was what kept him here.
“It’s pretty cool,” Oliver said.
“Thanks.” Clark offered no explanation of its origins and was grateful that Oliver didn’t ask.
He noticed Oliver’s attention was on the dance floor and when he followed his gaze, he saw it was on a woman.
She was extremely pretty . . . petite, long dark hair, tan skin, big hazel eyes. And she was currently making eyes at Oliver.
The jealousy was back but Clark forced it down. He had no rights to complain. Wasn’t he the one who put the brakes last time? And wasn’t he was the one who said he was interested in doing anything?
“You should go talk to her,” Clark suggested, gaining Oliver’s attention once again. Seeing his surprised expression, he smirked.
“That girl, she’s checking you out,” Clark added, “You should go dance with her.”
“I might do that,” Oliver said, finishing his drink. He looked at Clark warily.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Clark said, figuring out where his thought process was going. “If I want to leave, I will let you know. Promise.”
“Okay, well, then I’m going to hit the dance floor,” Oliver said, standing up. “Have a good night.”
Clark lifted his glass in response and watched as Oliver made his way toward the woman. He continued to observe Oliver, as he chatted up the pretty woman, who was clearly flirting back. Then they started to dance and Clark had to look away.
It was too late though. The image was already burned into his memory. Oliver and that woman rubbing against each other, that woman with her hands all over him . . . Clark felt queasy as the images kept coming.
What would’ve happened if he had stayed that night? Would he and Oliver be dancing on the floor right now?
‘Ha, what a joke’ his mind shot back. Oliver had made it clear that he moved on easily so Clark would’ve just been another one night stand. It was better this way.
He swallowed the last of his drink and got up. There was no point in sitting around and moping. Those days were long gone. He was here to party and party he would! The minute he headed toward the dance floor, women were coming up to him.
Soon, he was dancing with a pretty blonde. But no matter who he was dancing with, he couldn’t help but mentally criticize them. The first one’s hair’s was too light, the second one’s skin was too pale, the third one’s eyes weren’t the right shade of brown . . . he knew his mind was automatically comparing them to Oliver. Of course, nobody could compare.
And it wasn’t fair, for either one of them. Even if it was just a dance, they deserved to have all of him. Frustrated, he gave up on the dancing and much to the protest of several women, he headed to the bathroom, hoping to recompose himself.
He glanced at himself in the mirror . . . he looked good and he knew it. The women thought so too. Then why was he hung up on Oliver? He barely knew the guy!
The worst part was that he had been keeping an eye on Oliver and though the blonde had been dancing with several women, he always came back to the first one. The two of them had had several steamy dances already and Clark was almost positive that they were going to leave together that night.
Splashing some water on his face, he looked up and froze as he saw a second reflection in the mirror. ‘Speaking of the devil’ he thought.
Oliver was standing behind him and Clark grabbed a paper towel, wiping his face and looked expectantly at the older man.
“Hey Blondie,” he said, trying to sound casual. “What’s up?”
Oliver’s face was unreadable. “Didn’t see you on the floor. Thought you left.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you are paranoid beyond belief?” Clark asked, “I told you I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”
“Okay,” Oliver agreed, “That you did. So you coming back?”
“Actually, now that you’re here, I can say goodbye,” Clark said, “I was planning on leaving.”
“Already?” Oliver asked, “The night’s barely begun.”
“I might check out another club,” Clark told him. “This one is getting a little boring.”
“You can take the limo,” Oliver offered but Clark just shook his head.
“Thanks but no thanks,” Clark replied, “I’ll be fine.”
Clark started to head toward the exit but Oliver moved swiftly, blocking his way.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay a little while?” Oliver persisted.
‘And what, watch you dance with other women?’ he thought, annoyed. ‘Yeah right.’
“I’d like to leave,” Clark said. “So please move.” Oliver wasn’t moving and Clark knew he was about to lose his cool.
“Look Blondie,” Clark said, “you really don’t want to get in my way.” Oliver looked vaguely amused at the threat, which sent him over the edge.
“What is your problem?” Clark asked, his voice cold and hard, “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
All amusement was gone . . . those brown eyes Clark had grown to care about were now filled with hurt. He pushed away the guilt that was bubbling up.
“Move,” Clark repeated and Oliver wordlessly stepped aside. But before he could exit, he was stopped by the other man’s voice.
“What is your deal?” Oliver asked. Clark stopped, waiting for him to continue. He did. “I mean, one second you’re this nice guy and in another, you’re this asshole.”
“I’ve told you before,” Clark said, not looking at him, “I don’t owe anyone an explanation.” He paused. “Maybe it’s best we stay away from each other.”
“Why?” the reply that came was barely a whisper but Clark could pick it up.
“Because . . . it’s just best.” Clark didn’t have an explanation.
He felt Oliver spin him around and he noticed all the hurt was gone, replaced by a determination.
“I thought we were okay,” Oliver said, “On the kiss . . . we agreed we would keep it platonic and I thought we were cool after that. You said we were good.”
Clark refused to meet his eyes. “I lied.”
“Why?” Oliver wanted to know.
“Because it was easier to lie,” Clark said. Time for the truth. “We can’t be cool, not now, not ever.”
“Why not?” Oliver demanded.
“Because I’m not cool,” Clark said.
“Kal,” Oliver said, his voice even, “I told you, I wouldn’t come near you.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Clark said. Meeting his gaze, he saw the shock there. “It’s me.”