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The interior of Oliver Queen’s residence was warm, contrasting harshly with the chill of the outside rain.
It was a stationary base between travels, nestled in the heart of Star City. Tonight, Dinah had stopped in, shaking off her coat and hanging it on the rack beside the door. Connor had arrived shortly after, rummaging around in the kitchen fridge, while Mia sat in a large dining chair playing with something on her phone. Ollie was busy cooking, stirring and tasting from a large, metal pot.
Lonnie Machin, as he was most nights, was in the computer room typing away on his laptop.
Road tripping with Green Arrow was certainly never boring. There was always some kind of work to be done - even, in Lonnie’s own self-imposed case, during downtime. Whether it be poring over wiretapped comm logs, planting a bug here or there, or responding to messages on his chat site, if there wasn’t a job to do, he’d make one.
Back in his Washington D.C. days, he’d have entertained the thought of ‘rest’ and ‘relaxation’. Then he would have promptly reasoned his way out of allowing himself respite and returned to his monitors or hit the gymnasium, ever-focused on the mission he had dedicated himself to. When his parents were still around, he’d encase himself in the hum-buzz of his biofeedback learning enhancer until his mother called him out of his room. Maybe old habits just died hard.
Tonight he had foregone headphones for the sounds of the current storm. White noise had always helped him focus; too much silence and he’d probably go mad. He was busy tightening up the coding for his newest project when, as if summoned by his thoughts, Mia’s voice echoed down the hallway.
“Hey, Lonnie! Dinner!”
Lonnie sighed, furrowing his brows. Removing his crutches from their spot next to his desk chair, he set both into position, using the handles to push himself to his feet and slipping his arms through the cuffs. After grabbing the grips and gaining his footing, he made his way to the door, muffled voices and orange light spilling through the crack.
The domestic drone of a full house. He found himself hesitating. He could only ignore his hunger pangs and live off of snacks for so long, but company like this still took some getting used to.
The Arrows weren’t exactly perfect. He had only been staying with them for a month or two, and it was clear that some strain of old tension lingered. Sometimes, it felt too similar to things he’d felt before, a long time ago. He’d retreat inward and think of how much he missed his old AI companion.
For a team of close-knit vigilantes, though, they did alright. More than alright, the way things had been going recently, but Lonnie supposed he wouldn’t know. When he’d hung around the Bats, he’d been privy to a few of Tim Drake’s familial ups and downs, but they seemed - or at least, he might assume - like something of a particular case.
Squeezing his eyes shut and exhaling, as if to breathe out thoughts of Gotham, he pushed the door open, shut it behind him, and started towards the dining room.
As soon as he rounded the corner, Mia stopped what she was doing and looked up at him. Setting her phone down, she uncrossed her legs and stretched, a strange twinkle in her eyes and a coy look on her face. There was a place for him at the table between her and Dinah, with an empty bowl, silverware, napkin, and glass prepared.
Ollie, noting Lonnie’s entrance, grinned. “Hope you’re hungry, kiddo.”
Mia grinned wider. “Hope you’re prepared.”
The brief tightening in Lonnie’s throat at the sight of his empty seat was soon replaced by a swallow. Ollie was busy ladling three hearty scoops of something into red ceramic bowls. The man was wearing an apron and whistling like a cartoon character, Lonnie noted with amusement. A bag of shredded cheese, a box of crackers, and a tupperware container full of chopped onions was set off to the side.
The tension Lonnie had half-expected took on a new tone as everyone stopped talking, none of the people at the table trying too hard to hide what felt like anticipation. If Lonnie was about to be at the center of something, he’d quickly try to find a way to bend it to his benefit. After all, Anarky had been known for a particular brand of stubborn self-assurance.
He closed the gap between him and the others. Mia raised an eyebrow and motioned her head towards his chair, and he nodded affirmatively, giving her permission to pull it out for him. She got up and did so, Lonnie sitting down and getting himself situated. He handed his crutches to Mia, who leaned them against the wall nearby and returned to her spot.
Save for the sound of movement and Connor preparing his own plate, the room had gone quiet.
“So, what’re we having tonight?” Lonnie asked, looking cautiously at Ollie. May as well move things along, whatever they may be. The same mischief he’d seen in Mia was plastered all over her father’s expression, but at Lonnie’s questioning, Ollie dropped his terrible ‘nonchalant’ act and gripped tight around his ladle, bringing his arm in and facing the floor with a dramatically stony face.
“Legends call it by many names,” he began, and Dinah rolled her eyes.
“Like Brother Ollie’s NE Plus Ultra-Burn-Your-Guts-Out Mouth Blastin’ Chili?” she added, and Ollie shot her a pointed glare. He continued.
“Made with the finest ingredients this side of…”
“A can,” Mia interrupted, and Ollie looked hurt. It was up to Connor to land the final blow, and he looked poised to do so, speaking before Ollie got his next word in.
“Scourge of the Justice League of America, rumor has it that the only soul able to survive their first taste was The Batman himself.”
Lonnie couldn’t tell if the drawn-out introduction had eased his mind or not, but at least now he knew what they intended to put him through. Chili that needed theatrical framing, a trial-by-fire of beef and beans. At least it smelled good.
He must’ve been visibly reacting, because one glance in his direction caused Connor to weigh in again.
“Okay, Dad, I think we’ve scared him enough.”
“Alright, alright,” Ollie huffed. “Toppings?”
Lonnie shook his head. “I’ll have water, please.”
“Coming right up.”
He maneuvered over to Lonnie’s seat, set a full bowl down in front of him, and grabbed Lonnie’s glass. It looked like any other bowl of chili, but Lonnie had only ever tried the food a few times. Mia reached for hers. Dinah held off, leaning over to whisper in Lonnie’s ear.
“Milk. Tell him you want milk. Trust me.”
Lonnie softly cleared his throat.
“G.A.?” he asked, and Ollie leaned back to face him, away from the refrigerator door.
“May I have milk, instead?”
“At your request,” Ollie teased. Lonnie steeled himself in preparation.
Ollie filled Lonnie’s glass to the top, taking care not to spill it when he placed it back in front of him. He stared into the white, frothy liquid, noticing the way the light reflected off of it, tuning the others out as he reached for his spoon. It was all eyes on him. All he had to do was get this over with. Prove his resolve, raid the fridge, and return to his work. Mia stirred beside him, the sides of her spoon clinking against the bowl as she idly picked at her food.
With no further urging, Lonnie scooped a bite into his mouth and set it on fire.
No, his mouth had exploded. It was like a bomb had gone off at the center of his tongue. He had eaten all kinds of things as someone who valued a balanced diet, but this was on a whole new level. The flavor of the combined spices caused a searing heat to crawl up his neck, his freckled cheeks turning as red as his hair. Was that cayenne? Cumin? Flash powder? He tried his best to keep his mouth closed and his eyes open, but he couldn’t help the tears that welled up at the corners, the hand not holding his utensil balling into a fist. Memories of Oliver asking his tolerance a week or so prior came flooding back.
He could do it. He could last. He had no clue why he felt the urge to show he could, but he’d be damned if he let The Batman beat him out, even if this had nothing to do with injured pride. He swore he could feel sweat begin to drip down the side of his forehead. He squeezed his fist tighter, and tighter…
He couldn’t do it.
“Milk - the… milk!” Lonnie finally managed, groping forward. Slamming the fist holding his spoon on the table, he brought the glass to his lips and began to down the contents. A light, hesitant touch near his back caused him to flinch, and Dinah withdrew a sympathetic hand.
Noticing the sudden lack of presence, Lonnie relaxed. This seemed to send the right message, and she placed it back where it had been, patting gently as he continued to drink. Mia couldn’t restrain a fit of giggles, chanting for Lonnie to chug as she nudged Connor in a futile attempt to get him to join in.
To keep from caving, Connor poked a piece of veggie bacon into his mouth. His smile, however, betrayed him.
Finally, with a gasp, Lonnie set the glass down. He scanned the room, crossing his arms over his chest while he continued to pant. Even Dinah was trying not to chuckle, and it was Lonnie’s turn to roll his eyes.
“Yeah, laugh it up!” he exclaimed, though it didn't come out as sharp as he’d tried to sound. Ollie looked at Lonnie expectantly.
“What’d you think? Stupendous?” he asked, and Lonnie responded with a ‘tsk’.
“Did you ever have this stuff tested before moving on to human trials? Or did you just think I’d make a good addition to your guinea pig collection?”
“You get used to it,” said Dinah, and Connor smiled again. Lonnie wiped his mouth with his napkin.
As the scene settled, Mia tried to take the opportunity to empty her still-full bowl, bracing a hand against the arm of her chair to push herself up.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Ollie chided, “You haven’t eaten yet.”
Mia balked. “What? No, you did not tell me I was getting dragged into this.”
“And let Lonnie have all the fun?”
“The first time I tried your chili was a surprise attack, which should disqualify me from all future hazing attempts. If you’re so set on making things even, why don’t you eat it?”
Ollie emphasized the design on his apron. “With pleasure, but, see, I’m the chef. I go last.”
“What about Connor, or Dinah? She gets to sit pretty while I suffer?”
“You wound me, junior,” Ollie pantomimed an arrow to the heart, “and Connor opted out before I started cooking. But I won't force you. There's leftovers in the fridge.”
He sounded genuine, and it looked like Mia knew it, too. She shifted, looking to her father, then at Lonnie, picking her spoon back up. “He can’t dump some hot sauce on his facon?”
“Fair’s fair. Grab the bowl, pay the toll.”
Mia groaned, turning back to Lonnie. “Fine. You better be flattered, because I don’t do this for just anyone.”
There was that feeling in his throat again, and it wasn’t the leftover spice.
It took a couple of bites to get a rise out of Mia. Lonnie guessed it was desensitization, but given her initial reaction, he knew it was coming soon. She ate until the chili was almost gone, breaths rising and falling until she couldn’t take the heat. Her bowl clattering to the table, she pushed out her chair with her body, rushing to the sink.
Eyes darting left, right, and to her hands, she realized too late that she had forgotten her glass. Turning the handles up as high as they could go, she held her face under the tap.
She surfaced after two gulps, water on her face and the end of her ponytail.
“Fair’s fair,” she repeated, and sat back down again.
But fair wasn’t entirely fair, was it? Mia had eaten all of hers, while Lonnie’s bowl still sat largely untouched. He could just be done with the entire ordeal, but a small, nagging feeling inside of him wouldn’t let him leave. He remembered her words from a minute or so earlier, before she had joined him in pepper-induced agony. “I don’t do this for just anyone.”
“More milk?” he asked Ollie, and Ollie obliged. Knowing what he was in for, Lonnie took small, paced bites, drinking between them. It only worked so well. He held eye contact with Mia while he finished in a show of mutuality, tears returning, but it only seemed to make her snort.
“Dude, I didn’t even know the human face could twist like that.”
A chorus of snickering again. He could live with it. Slowly, after setting down his empty bowl, Lonnie’s breathing turned to laughter of his own.
A strange feeling bubbled in his chest seeing the others having fun around him - with him. It wasn’t malicious, he knew; these were the faces of a family who had done this before, and would do it again to anyone they deemed one of theirs, even if only for a while. Straightening up, he confidently locked eyes with his cheerful tormentor. It was going to take a lot more to keep him down.
“You know, G.A.?” he said with a shaky smirk, “That was so good, I think I’ll have another,”
Ollie beamed. “I knew you’d come around.”