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fandomweekly2020-02-20 09:58 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote in fandomweekly2020-02-20 09:58 pm
Entry tags:
[#041] Don't Touch Me, I'm a Real Live Wire (DCTV)
Theme Prompt: #041 - Resurrection
Title: Don’t Touch Me, I’m a Real Live Wire
Fandom: DCTV (AU, sorta)
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 || Spoilers for Crisis of Infinite Earths/S8 of Arrow
Bonus: No
Word Count: 997
Summary: Two times Laurel forced her way into Tommy’s apartment, and one time he let her in.
Notes: Crisis made everything weird, this is me trying to fill in one of the gaps.
“So … hubby. How do you want to do this?”
It stuns Tommy how much she both is and isn’t Laurel. He doesn’t think anyone who isn’t well-versed in Laurel Lance would be able to tell the difference, but he does. The pitch of her voice, the balance of her posture, even the part of her hair all gives this woman away as being not the woman he loved, but he stares at her face and wants so desperately to believe that she’s Laurel, back from the dead and returning to his arms.
He doesn’t want this imposter here, this reminder of what he’s lost. He doesn’t want her in his apartment; he doesn’t want her in his life – he wants his wife.
But it wasn’t his wife, who had put herself on the six o’clock news as this Earth’s Laurel. It isn’t his wife who embraced him in the bullpen of the police station, despite having the same floral shampoo and feeling like Laurel when she held him close. And it certainly isn’t his wife standing in the middle of his apartment, of what used to be their home.
She gave up the act of being his Laurel the second the three of them were behind closed doors. She knows he knows enough not to try to sell him on the lie.
“How do I want to do what exactly?”
“This whole living situation.” She takes a step forward. “Gotta keep up appearances, after all.”
Tommy glances at Quentin, and the other man is pleading with him to play along, but he knows he can’t. It’s too much of a charade and after being raised by a man who built his life on a lie, he knows he can’t follow through with it.
“Oh, you’re not staying here.”
“Tommy …”
“No.” He turns and points at Quentin, before shaking his head. “You want to play Big Happy Family and try and recoup what you lost through her, then that’s fine. That’s your choice. But I’m not going to pretend that she’s my wife.”
“Divorcing me after I was kidnapped for two years? Cold, Merlyn. Didn’t know you had it in you.”
“I think you’d be surprised.” He then turns and points to the door. “Now get out.”
Laurel straightens, almost as though she might challenge him on the prospect, but Quentin cuts her off at the pass. “I’ve still got my old place. We’ll stay there.”
Tommy doesn’t even bother to watch them go. He has better things to do.
- - - - - -
Tommy comes home late one night to find Laurel in his living room. He’d scold her for being there, but he also saw the news and isn’t feeling completely heartless. In the time since Quentin started rehabilitating her, he’s seen a change. Not enough to make him want to acknowledge that there’s any shred of his Laurel in her, but enough that he doesn’t immediately freak out when he finds her in his apartment.
“How did you get in here?”
“You and the Tommy from my Earth have the same security code.” She’s nursing a very expensive whiskey, and there’s a glass she poured for him sitting next to her. “Thea’s birthday.”
“Note to self, be less predictable.” He sheds his coat and moves to sit across from her, picking up the glass and swirling it in his hand. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to say goodbye.” She downs the rest of her glass before placing it on the table in front of her. “I’m going back to Earth-2.”
“Why?”
“Because I need a fresh start. Going home, I might get one if I reinvent myself well enough.” She glances up at him. “But I also wanted to apologize for leaving her legacy like this.” She swallows hard. “I tried to do right by her, Tommy. I’m sorry I couldn’t do better.”
Tommy takes a long sip himself, before running his thumb along the glass. “I know. And … it’s okay.” He gives a half-laugh. “You know, I honestly think she would have approved. Not of the way it ended, I mean, but the fact that you tried. She was always fond of second chances.”
She nods, a small smile crossing her face. “Guess I’ll see you around, Merlyn.”
He watches her go as she makes her way out the door, and can’t help but smile. “You too, Lance.”
- - - - - -
The next time he sees her is Oliver’s funeral. He has a head full of memories of timelines rewritten, both the real one where he died and the false one, where he got to marry Laurel, but still didn’t get to grow old with her. It’s hard to make sense of any of it, but given that most of his life over the last eight years has made zero sense, he’s deciding to go with it. It’s a pretty steep learning curve, but he’s doing the best he can.
That night, she appears at his front door, still in her funeral garb. He’s nursing his second whiskey. She’s looking for forgiveness, for being the one that Oliver chose to save, not his wife. Or at least that’s what he assumes, up until he raises an eyebrow at her in response.
“You were my best friend on my Earth too. You and Oliver. I know that I’m not her, but I was wondering if there might be a chance to be friends still?”
He considers, then shrugs. “It’s not the worst proposition I’ve ever heard.” She snorts, hits of a smile curling at the corners of her mouth, and he grins. “Do we have to be friends sober, though?”
“God, absolutely not.”
Tommy laughs before pushing open the door to let her in. “Good. Because you have some catching up to do.” He pauses. “Don’t have any Pinot Noir.”
She shakes her head before making her way inside. “I think I can make due.”
Title: Don’t Touch Me, I’m a Real Live Wire
Fandom: DCTV (AU, sorta)
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 || Spoilers for Crisis of Infinite Earths/S8 of Arrow
Bonus: No
Word Count: 997
Summary: Two times Laurel forced her way into Tommy’s apartment, and one time he let her in.
Notes: Crisis made everything weird, this is me trying to fill in one of the gaps.
“So … hubby. How do you want to do this?”
It stuns Tommy how much she both is and isn’t Laurel. He doesn’t think anyone who isn’t well-versed in Laurel Lance would be able to tell the difference, but he does. The pitch of her voice, the balance of her posture, even the part of her hair all gives this woman away as being not the woman he loved, but he stares at her face and wants so desperately to believe that she’s Laurel, back from the dead and returning to his arms.
He doesn’t want this imposter here, this reminder of what he’s lost. He doesn’t want her in his apartment; he doesn’t want her in his life – he wants his wife.
But it wasn’t his wife, who had put herself on the six o’clock news as this Earth’s Laurel. It isn’t his wife who embraced him in the bullpen of the police station, despite having the same floral shampoo and feeling like Laurel when she held him close. And it certainly isn’t his wife standing in the middle of his apartment, of what used to be their home.
She gave up the act of being his Laurel the second the three of them were behind closed doors. She knows he knows enough not to try to sell him on the lie.
“How do I want to do what exactly?”
“This whole living situation.” She takes a step forward. “Gotta keep up appearances, after all.”
Tommy glances at Quentin, and the other man is pleading with him to play along, but he knows he can’t. It’s too much of a charade and after being raised by a man who built his life on a lie, he knows he can’t follow through with it.
“Oh, you’re not staying here.”
“Tommy …”
“No.” He turns and points at Quentin, before shaking his head. “You want to play Big Happy Family and try and recoup what you lost through her, then that’s fine. That’s your choice. But I’m not going to pretend that she’s my wife.”
“Divorcing me after I was kidnapped for two years? Cold, Merlyn. Didn’t know you had it in you.”
“I think you’d be surprised.” He then turns and points to the door. “Now get out.”
Laurel straightens, almost as though she might challenge him on the prospect, but Quentin cuts her off at the pass. “I’ve still got my old place. We’ll stay there.”
Tommy doesn’t even bother to watch them go. He has better things to do.
Tommy comes home late one night to find Laurel in his living room. He’d scold her for being there, but he also saw the news and isn’t feeling completely heartless. In the time since Quentin started rehabilitating her, he’s seen a change. Not enough to make him want to acknowledge that there’s any shred of his Laurel in her, but enough that he doesn’t immediately freak out when he finds her in his apartment.
“How did you get in here?”
“You and the Tommy from my Earth have the same security code.” She’s nursing a very expensive whiskey, and there’s a glass she poured for him sitting next to her. “Thea’s birthday.”
“Note to self, be less predictable.” He sheds his coat and moves to sit across from her, picking up the glass and swirling it in his hand. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to say goodbye.” She downs the rest of her glass before placing it on the table in front of her. “I’m going back to Earth-2.”
“Why?”
“Because I need a fresh start. Going home, I might get one if I reinvent myself well enough.” She glances up at him. “But I also wanted to apologize for leaving her legacy like this.” She swallows hard. “I tried to do right by her, Tommy. I’m sorry I couldn’t do better.”
Tommy takes a long sip himself, before running his thumb along the glass. “I know. And … it’s okay.” He gives a half-laugh. “You know, I honestly think she would have approved. Not of the way it ended, I mean, but the fact that you tried. She was always fond of second chances.”
She nods, a small smile crossing her face. “Guess I’ll see you around, Merlyn.”
He watches her go as she makes her way out the door, and can’t help but smile. “You too, Lance.”
The next time he sees her is Oliver’s funeral. He has a head full of memories of timelines rewritten, both the real one where he died and the false one, where he got to marry Laurel, but still didn’t get to grow old with her. It’s hard to make sense of any of it, but given that most of his life over the last eight years has made zero sense, he’s deciding to go with it. It’s a pretty steep learning curve, but he’s doing the best he can.
That night, she appears at his front door, still in her funeral garb. He’s nursing his second whiskey. She’s looking for forgiveness, for being the one that Oliver chose to save, not his wife. Or at least that’s what he assumes, up until he raises an eyebrow at her in response.
“You were my best friend on my Earth too. You and Oliver. I know that I’m not her, but I was wondering if there might be a chance to be friends still?”
He considers, then shrugs. “It’s not the worst proposition I’ve ever heard.” She snorts, hits of a smile curling at the corners of her mouth, and he grins. “Do we have to be friends sober, though?”
“God, absolutely not.”
Tommy laughs before pushing open the door to let her in. “Good. Because you have some catching up to do.” He pauses. “Don’t have any Pinot Noir.”
She shakes her head before making her way inside. “I think I can make due.”
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