Never Say Goodbye

Chapter 6: Drugs & Short Tempers

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, alright?” 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, alright? 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.”