Working With Red

Unexpectedly Expected

"Hey, kiddo." 

You whirled around to face Oliver, whom you hadn't noticed enter the training room only a moment before. You quickly shot a glance back over your shoulder at the mirror, only to let out a breath of relief when you noticed your eyes had returned to their normal hue. It didn't stop you from shaking your head in disbelief. 

What the hell is happening to me? 

"(Y/N)?" Oliver called, and you turned back around to face the blonde again.

"Hm?" Unsure of what to do with your magic hands, you resorted to awkwardly folding your arms over your chest as you eyed Oliver in front of you. He was clad in a cut-off and a pair of loose sweatpants, his blonde hair a sweaty mess, as though he'd just finished working out, and his left hand wrapped in bandages.  

"I was just coming down here to check on you," Oliver replied, offering a kind smile. "I was actually wondering if you maybe wanted to spar for a minute or two." You hesitated, mouth falling open a bit in surprise. 

"You want to spar with me?" you asked. "What about Roy?" 

"(Y/N), it's two in the morning," Oliver replied, chuckling. "He's probably passed out in his room." 

"Is it, really?" you murmured, gaze drifting to the clock hanging above the mirror. Oliver was right. 

"I've been down here for four hours?" you muttered aloud. I only started sparring with the BOB at 10; how did two hours turn into four? How did I lose track of time so quickly? 

"So?" Oliver piped up, regaining your attention. "How about it? Spar with me?" 

"Are you sure?" you asked, sheepishly rubbing your arm. "I'm not very good." 

"(Y/N), it's going to be fine," Oliver replied, smiling as he stretched his arms up above his head. "If it'll make you feel any better, I'll go easy on you." 

"Okay." You moved to stand in front of Oliver, and the two of you settled into nearly-identical fighting stances before Oliver motioned for you to come at him. After taking an unsteady breath, you sprinted at him dead-on, halting just in front of him as Oliver took a swing at your chest. You spun and managed to land a kick to his side, though Oliver only grabbed you by the thigh and threw you to the floor, locking your knee under his arm while the palm of his hand forced your chest into the ground. You let out a grunt, the back of your head landing against the mat as Oliver smiled triumphantly; the altercation had lasted less than thirty seconds. 

"Was that you taking it easy?" you muttered, cocking an eyebrow, and Oliver shrugged as he pulled you back onto your feet. 

"That was maybe a two on a scale of ten," he replied. 

"Wow, then, thanks for holding back," you mumbled sarcastically. 

"You're welcome," Oliver replied with a cheesy grin. "Now, how about we go for a three?" 

After a few minutes of struggling to hold your ground, you were finally able to let out a sigh of triumph when you managed to pin Oliver to the mats, earning both a proud smile and a pained grunt from the blonde. 

"I'm impressed," Oliver murmured, jumping to his feet when you released him. "You did well to keep your stance. It's important to hold yourself up in a fight against a bigger opponent, though I can tell that you've had no trouble with that, lately." You understood what he meant; Oliver was nearly twice your size, if you included sheer height and muscle mass. Add in Oliver's skill level, and, if you were to guess, he was the equivalent to at least three of you. You were equally surprised when you had taken him down after such a struggle, but that meant you could only wait for what was to come beyond "level four."