Disclaimer : I don't own anything. I wouldn't mind owning Stephen Amell though. Or Willa Holland, I'm not picky.

A/N: So yeah, another incesty one-shot, for some reason. After watching the first episode of Arrow, I just really had to write it. Hope you'll enjoy it. Those two have crazy chemistry and I can't wait for more of this show.

He doesn't hear what his mother says, because she's here. He can feel her.

His eyes go to the top of the stairs, and she's there, all brown hair and adoring gaze.

She smiles, and it's like he never left.

He doesn't want her to see how anxious he is to touch her, feel her, reassure himself that she is real and he's not going to lose her again. But when she hugs him, he holds her extra tight. He's almost afraid he'll break her. She feels so frail in his arms. He should protect her, not crush her to death against his weaponized-body, he tries to tell himself. He's being selfish here, and he doesn't seem to be able to stop.

But she just digs her finger in his neck and tries to get him impossibly closer. Even if the rest is a blurr of too many feelings, he feels that and he knows it's alright.

"I knew you were alive" she says.

"You were with me the all time," he says.

And it doesn't really makes sense except it does. Like everything else with them.

She's twelve and reading in his room, as per her habit. He's hung over in his bed, vaguely playing on his phone. She reads some passages aloud and he listens. They don't spend as much time together as they used to now that he's always out partying, but they still have those special moments. At least for now, soon he'll be going away to college. And that's exactly what's one her mind.

"Do you really have to go? To college."

Her eyes are not on the book anymore, but she doesn't look at him either, she just stares at the wall.

"I doubt I can get out of this one. Dad paid so much to get me into some fancy Ivy League thing, I'm pretty sure I have to go."

He knows she doesn't like it. She didn't say a word about it before, but he knows.

"I don't want you to go," she says, her voice shaking slightly.

"I know speedy, I'm sorry and I'll miss you too. But it's like your book okay, even if we're away, we'll never be apart."

She looked down to her copy of Wuthering Heights, and try to find back the page he was referring to, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"It's like when Cathy goes all 'I'm Heathcliff' and say that nothing can keep them apart, because they're the same soul or something."

"'Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.'" she quoted, proud to have found the page. "I like the idea," she says.

"We're the same," he tells her.

"No we're not. They were soul mates, lovers, I don't think that can apply here."

"Oh, Speedy, you didn't know? They are brother and sister too."

"What? No, I've just re-read it, it's never mentioned anywhere."

"Of course it's not mentioned, it's implied. It's all subtle British literature but Heathcliff is, or so most scholars agree, implied to be Cathy's dad's bastard son."

"Oh," she says, not able to come up with anything better and blushing for some reason.

"See? They totally need brilliant student like me in college, maybe I could even sign up for British Lit 101," he says smugly.

She smiled back, but can't quite shake this new feeling inside her stomach.

"Are you going out tonight?" she asks to distract herself, and him, from her blush.

"I guess yeah," he says trying to find Tommy's text about their plans for the night. Something about a new club.

"Are you—are you coming back?"

"Tonight? I don't think so. Dunno, really."

"Can I sleep in your room?"

She asks. He doesn't know why she bothers to ask, he never says no. Not to her. He knows she feels lonely, and he knows it's his fault for always doing shit and getting fucked up. And he misses her too. It's just the way it is now. Even if she was older he wouldn't want her following in his footstep.

"Yeah, of course Speedy."

That night, he came home early. He left the party, haunted by images of her all alone in his too-large bed. She was sleeping and didn't wake up when he hugged her into his chest for the night.

Her smile the next morning was worth it.

Of course he shouldn't be surprised when she sneaks into his bedroom on his first night back. She needs reassurance after their tense dinner, and he winked, that means she's allowed, right?

So she goes, doesn't bother with knocking. And when he gets back from his shower, he finds her in his bed.

She's an restless sleeper, always has been. She'll move and stretch and shift in her sleep. It never bothered him before. Maybe it's because his senses are heightened from his time on the island, maybe it's because she's not so small anymore.

He's never slept with anyone as agitated as her. Maybe it's because every other girl he sleeps with, he actually fucks. And he does it well—they're out cold after it.

She shifts one more time against his chest and stretch her leg. Then she brings her knee to her chest, almost kneeing him in the process.

Maybe, he thinks, he should fuck her. Just so she won't be able to emasculate him in his sleep. Just so she'll finally be able to freaking sleep like the baby she's supposed to be. Just because her breast have been grazing against his chest for awhile now and it's starting to drive him crazy.

He tries his best to stop this train of thoughts by reciting all the name from his father's list in his head.

"Ollie," she calls, breathless.

But it's not the breathless he was imagining a few moments ago, it's a pained sound, full of five years worth of anguish and fear.

So he holds her close and tries to calm her, murmuring incoherent words of reassurance. It's okay, it's okay, I'm here, I'm here, I'm right here Speedy.

He caresses her hair and rubs her back in what he hopes is a soothing way, he handles her like the most precious, fragile thing in the world, because in so many ways she is.

When she awakes, she wraps herself even closer, closer than he thought was possible. Her wide eyes find his, and her gaze his searching.

He doesn't know what for though, so he just says:

"I'm here."

"I dreamed you were away. Far."

"I'm here, I'm never leaving you."

"But you were away."

"We're never away Speedy, I told you. You were with me the entire time. We can never be apart, remember."

She smiles. "Heathcliff," she calls.

"Cathy," he responds.

And then, in the darkness of the room, in the comfort of his bed, she leans in and her lips meet his.

A sweet sweet sweet contact that taste like forever and coming home.

It ends so fast he would have mistaken it for a dream, if not for the guilty look in her eyes.

She's on top of him now, he realizes, a dream-like creature he tried to summoned a thousand time in his island nights. He tries to smile, but he's too confused to pull it off.

"What was that for?" he asks, not sure what to say.

Should he pretend it never happened, that it was just a shadow-birthed fantasy come to life? Should he kiss her back?

"I wasn't sure you were real," she says.

"And now?"

"Now, I know."

There is a hunger in her eyes now, and he's pretty sure it's in his too. He's not sure who kisses who next, all he knows, all he sees are her eyes—so so beautiful eyes—and her lips in the dark, all he feels his her her her.

Nothing else existed, he's not sure where he ends and where she begins. But he doesn't need to know.

Hours later, she's asleep, exhausted by hours of kissing and touching and feeling and loving in the dark. He carries her back to her room, holding her against his heart.

But it's his time to feel restless now. The bed feels foreign without her in it. The whole room feels to big, to clean and he wants to scream—or maybe join her in her bed. But he can't. He doesn't go, instead he goes to the window, opens it and fall asleep to the comforting sound of the falling rain, the only one as familiar as her breathing.

He dreams of the island. He doesn't dream of her. He doesn't need to, her presence is always in his dreams.

But he wakes up full of worry.

Her smile, the next morning, is all the answer he needs. She stares back at him, more adoration in her eyes than ever before. He's still her hero, and now, with his rock in her hand, they're more connected than ever.

This is right, he thinks and he's ready to kiss her when Tommy comes in and ruin the moment.

Review, please tell me what you think?