flawed

t w e n t y f i r s t

A/N

Yes my little annoying beginning author's notes again. Hehe.

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District_491
year 02 post great shock
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Amara POV

"You two have been awfully quiet," I commented, sitting on a rock while Peter cleaned and wrapped my wounds.

Ever since I had awoken from my nap I had immediately noted the iciness between Oliver and Peter, and caught more than a few glares shared between the two of them.
I could practically feel the testosterone heavy in the air.

Oliver's eyes were cast awkwardly away from me, as if he was uncomfortable with the fact my bloodied shirt was off and I was wearing only a black lacy bra underneath.
Don't judge, I had won it in a street fight. I didn't even want to think of how many other people's bodies it had to be on, but a girl needed what a girl needed.

Even Peter seemed hilariously nervous with how much skin I was showing, I caught his eyes flicking away from my wounds ever so often, quickly trailing over my body, bringing a warm feeling to the pit of my stomach.
He could look all he wanted, after all, I was his. Only his.

The Doctor had disappeared fifteen minutes or so, muttering something about surveillance and that she would be back shortly.

"Okay, I think I've got it," Peter said, and I still felt my heart speed up a little at the sound of his voice.
I don't know if it will ever sink in that we are together again.
It still feels like a hazy illusion, a dream.

I stretched, grimacing as my wounds stung. Peter watched me, but when I caught his eye he flushed pink, looking away, making me smirk.

My shirt was laying on the ground, covered in dust and blood. Oh well, it would have to do.
I strode over to the shirt, picking it up and shaking as much of the dust off as I could.
It smelt like dead things.
Ew.

The disgust on my face must have been pretty obvious because Peter laughed a little, reaching into a pack slung over his back and pulling out a battered leather jacket, helping me put it on. It hung loosely over my think frame, but it smelt like Peter.
Nutmeg and cinnamon.
Even after all this time.

Made me wonder how much cologne he had saved up.

As much I loved this jacket already I was half hoping he would take off his shirt and give it to me.
Sigh.
I guess I'd have to wait.

I didn't even notice me and Peter were staring into each other's eyes until Oliver cleared his throat loudly from behind me.
I quickly broke my gaze away from Pete, turning to Oliver.
"You two never answered my question. Well, statement. What's going on between you two because I'm not blind and your death glared rival even mine. And that's saying something, I'm the queen of glaring."

"How do you know him?" Peter blurted at the same time Oliver questioned, "Why do you love him, he tried to kill you!"

I blinked, taken aback a little by their demeanors and how they both scowled at eachother after getting their questions out.
I needed to do something fast or else the two men were going to start throwing fists.
And we didn't want that, did we?

Okay, maybe I did. I'm a sucker for a good fight. Who isn't?

So I stepped between the two of them and placed a hand on each of their chest's.
That really diverted both of their attention.
I found a set of green eyes and a set of brown on me, both staring intently.
"One at a time, kids. One at a time," I said firmly, gesturing for them to sit.

Oliver sat immediately, but Peter gave me a challenging look. I raised an eyebrow, and he stuck out his tongue, sitting down.
I shook my head, trying valiantly not to smile.

"How do you know him?" Peter repeated, as soon as I had sat down on a rock.

This was a question even I wasn't sure I knew the answer to. Well, not fully.
So I answered it best I could.
"Doctor Levine would visit me often when I was little, up until I was about thirteen years old. She was the mother that I never really had. She was there for me, teaching me, even at times reprimanding me-" my voice almost broke with emotion but I managed to keep it under control.

"I didn't remember Oliver until a few days ago. Most of my memories are like that. They come back at the most random times, usually triggered by something. This time I was running, and it brought me back to a day that I was racing Emma to the swings. I tripped her and Doctor Levine scolded me. She had a little boy with her. Her son. She had you with her." I looked at Oliver, square in the face.

He nodded.
"That was the first time I met you. Mom had talked so much about what she called her 'miracle girl'. She would always tell me you were the future of the world." He let out a short laugh.
"I used to hate you. I always wondered why I couldn't be the one to save the world, why I wasn't good enough to be the miracle boy. But when I met you and saw your feisty ways... I understood. No one could do it but you. Only you."

His gaze had deepened and I shifted uncomfortably. I got the distinct feeling there was a history we had that he wasn't telling me about.

I coughed, looking away to find Peter watching me with a look I couldn't quite decipher. Whatever it was he quickly covered it up with a smile.
I frowned.
Stupid pretty boy.

Doctor Celeste chose that moment to show up, looking over us curiously.
"Why the stormy faces?"

"Oliver," Peter grumbled at the same time Oliver muttered "Peter."

I stood up, smacked both of them across the back of their heads, and walked off, grabbing Peter's wrist at the last moment and dragging him along behind me like he was two years old.

We had kids to find.

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^ Tea my people ☕️

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