/// Continuation from 'Hell if I know'! I enjoyed writing that story so much, and I am still seriously considering making this a whole thing, I dunno. Tell me what you think, I love hearing from you guys.
TW/CW: Cursing, mention of drugs (like, sedative-type drugs), more hints to sexual/physical assault, but isn't explicitly said. Just, please don't read this I you're triggered by the thought of it, because it hints at it quite blatantly. Stay safe, lovelies 🥺
This is kinda angsty, I mean obviously, they're talking about assault and shit, but still, just know this is angst with a kinda happy ending :)
Enjoy! ///

If Declan had thought Archer cropping up on his front doorstep at stupid-o'clock in the morning was disastrous, clearly he had underestimated how bad it'd be when Archer actually woke up. To be completely fair to him, though, it would probably be a bit stressful to wake in the lair of your sworn nemesis with no recollection of what happened.

The room was quiet, with the frequent flipping of pages as Declan was still reading up on poisons and such while waiting for his enemy to wake. He was sat on the hard wood floor next to the leather sofa on which Archer lay; he didn't really want to leave him alone in his house. He'd probably find some stupid way to injure himself again, inevitably leading to another pointless argument, further solidifying their rivalry. That, and he was also ensuring that Archer was actually alive every so often, too. You know, priorities and all that.

It was actually while Declan was checking the other man's pulse, two of his finger's pressed firmly against Archer's neck, that the latter's eyes snapped open abruptly. Declan immediately drew back and retreated to the other side of the coffee table, his eyes wide and heart pounding. That was probably the most horror-movie-esque thing to ever happen to him.

Almost instantly upon waking, Archer let out a short scream and scrambled over the top of the sofa, landing with a heavy thump on the other side. He poked his head up from behind the couch, his eyes frantically scanned the room, taking in exactly where he was. Then, noticing that his enemy was in the room, he lurched forwards like a slightly disoriented bolt of lightening. He grabbed the first throwable thing his hand brushed against; the remote for the large TV set mounted above the fireplace. His mind was hazy and barely functioning, yet he nonetheless swung his arm back in preparation to hurl the remote as accurately as he could in his current state. Declan's eyebrows shot up as he saw this and he slowly backed up against the wall.

"Wait, hang on a second! Just put the remote down, man! We can talk this ou-" He had hardly finished his sentence before Archer haphazardly flung the remote in the general direction of Declan, but completely missing and instead knocking down a picture frame from the wall.

"Dude, let's just talk this out, there's no need for this! I thought you were supposed to be fair and just or whatever!" Declan exclaimed, ducking down behind a small cabinet.

"Evil doesn't stop to talk!" Archer growled.

"NOT WHEN YOU THROW TV REMOTES AT IT!" Declan screamed back, poking his head out to see Archer holding his favourite coaster like a throwing knife.

"Oh, come on, don't throw that! That's my favourite-" He threw it, it sliced through the air and slammed into the wall next to Declan's head. Huffing, Declan decided enough was enough. This was getting them nowhere, only potentially breaking his favourite possessions and chipping his wallpaper. So, Declan held his arms out and slowly stepped away from the cabinet, facing the terrified-looking hero.

"Okay, calm down. Please, just stop throwing my shit around. I know you're scared, I would be too; I understand. Just please, put down my mug." He added on the last part after noticing Archer shakily clutching his Doctor Who mug that had been sat peacefully on the table. Declan looked at him, and they locked eyes for a moment; nervous, slightly tired eyes met frantic, scared ones. There was a beat of silence... before Archer hesitantly set the mug back down on the table. Declan sighed gratefully and lowered his hands before cautiously approached the sofa in which Archer was hiding behind.

"It's alright. Please, sit down. I just wanna explain what happened, I promise." He said softly, gesturing to the couch and trying his hardest to look comforting. He knew that they had fought for years, constantly in fact, and that the hero had no reason to trust him whatsoever, and he could understand that. But at the same time, he knew that the other man would be confused and panic-stricken and would want to know what happened. He was also very aware that they were supposed to hate each other, so many times they had fought over the pettiest things, but this was just far too serious to gloss over. They had to put feelings aside for the time being, otherwise nothing would get clarified and it would remain just a clusterfuck of confusion and fear for both parties.

Archer nodded briefly and hopped over the top of the couch, landing not-so-gracefully on one end. Declan sat down gracefully next to him, picking up the mug and setting the coaster back under it.

"So?" Archer snapped, a little harsher than he meant to, "Why exactly am I in your house? And why don't I remember anything?" He was glaring at Declan, who exhaled heavily and wrung his hands.

"Alright, you definitely deserve to know. But um, do you want a drink or anything first, though?"

***

After pottering around in the kitchen, Declan had returned with two cups of coffee, filling the room with the earthy smell. The two men were sat cross-legged facing each other on either end of the sofa. Archer had begrudgingly accepted his cup, cordially thanking him and setting it down on the table.

"Okay, well you turned up on my doorstep last night," Declan began, shifting so he could grab his coffee, "You looked scared out of your tiny mind. Like, you were holding your arm really tight and you just looked so... freaked out. Your eyes, too... they were kind of glazed over and I thought you were drunk at first. Then, obviously, I realised you weren't and I was gonna ask what happened, but then you looked at me and said you 'didn't know where else to go' and then you collapsed. So um, I kinda just brought you into the lai- house and tried to make sure you weren't dead. I was looking it up, trying to find out what you were drugged with I mean, for basically the rest of the night. So, yeah."

Declan sighed , nervously glancing up at Archer. The hero said nothing in response, only staring blankly back at him. Fearing he had said or done something wrong, he panicked and wildly shook his head.

"I-I mean, I knew I couldn't call the ambulance or anything; t-they uh- they don't come here anymore, y'know? I would've, definitely, I swear! I just c-couldn't and I didn't know what else to do so I just made sure you didn't like- choke on your own vomit or anything during the night..." He trailed off, praying the hero wouldn't try to fight him or throw any more of his stuff again.

The room was deathly quiet, it was practically unbearable. The tension lingered heavily in the air along with the strong scent of coffee, and Declan wondered if he should just slowly sidle out of the room. His stomach felt like it had tangled itself in knots as he watched Archer for some kind of reaction, literally anything. He wondered briefly if he'd offended Archer somehow, when the other finally spoke, his voice quiet and uncertain in the otherwise silent room.

"You... You saved me?" He asked softly. Declan would've laughed at the crack in Archer's voice, however he was still dreading the outcome of the situation, which was starting to feel more and more like an interrogation, so he bit his tongue.

"W-Well, I didn't save you, I just-" Archer raised a trembling hand, immediately making Declan shut his mouth.

"You did. I remember now. Or, a bit, anyway. Basically, um," He paused and Declan watched as he retracted slightly, his shoulders hunched up and he crossed his arms tightly around himself.

He was embarrassed.

"D-Don't feel the need to continue," Declan interrupted gently, "I'd understand if you didn't wanna tell me. And you don't have to stay of you don't want to, by the way. I won't like, try to fight you or anything. The doors have remained booby-trap free since your arrival." He said, smiling lightly. Archer huffed a short laugh, shaking his head.

"Well, you did basically save my life for all we know; I may as well let you know why I turned up on your doorstep at God-knows-when last night." Declan nodded solemnly, putting his mug down and fully turning around to face his enem- Archer, again.

"So, I was finishing a patrol last night, but it ran a bit later than I expected because I found a kid wandering the street on their own." Declan frowned, but said nothing at that. "Anyway, um, I put my bow down for some reason, I don't remember why, but I was unequipped either way. Then... some guys walked up to me, like... maybe three? Four? I dunno, but they made out like they were fans. Y'know, the typical stuff; one of them even asked for my autograph. Though, as soon as I gave him the paper back, he just... ripped it in half, which kinda t-threw me off. Uh, as soon as he did that, I felt this horrible pain in my upper arm, it was stinging so much, I didn't even realise what had happened. The- The guys were all around me, I could hardly see where I was. They.. They-" He cut off suddenly, letting out a choked sob.

Declan, eyes wide with shock, placed a hand carefully on his knee. Archer flinched slightly, causing him to instantly start retracting his hand, however the hero simply patted his hand with his own and heaved a heavy sigh. When he began talking again his voice was strained, yet it grew in volume as he spoke, his face contorting with frustration and disappointment.

"I would've fought back, normally I could, I don't know what happened. I can fight, like, I'm physically okay, but they caught me off-guard and I couldn't do anything, it was awful. I wish I had tried harder-"

"You were drugged." Declan interrupted, frowning sympathetically, "Of course you couldn't fight back. No one could've. That's not any kind of insult to your own strength. You aren't weak; they weren't playing fair. It wasn't your fault at all." Archer looked up at him and Declan hoped he didn't seem rude for interrupting him again, but the former gave him a watery smile and nodded before continuing.

"I didn't know where to g-go. I mean, it was the middle of the night and my apartment was the other side of the city. And, a-as dramatic as it sounds, I looked up and saw your place in the distance, across the river. S-So, I got up- uh, they had already left so I..." He paused briefly, his eyes covered with a thin film of tears, "I picked up my clothes, and just ran as fast as I could. I was terrified they were gonna come back the whole time and just- I ran to your door and prayed you were home. And I guess you know the rest from there."

Declan had expected to hear something along these lines. It was clear from Archer's dazed expression from the previous night, as well as the hastily thrown on clothes and overall situation itself, that whatever had happened was serious. And he had seen his fair share of evildoings in his time. But for some reason, this was just... so hard to hear. He could feel his chest tightening as he listened and his fists were clenched quiet hard.

"God, that's... that's awful. I'm so sorry that happened. Um, do you need me to call someone? Friends, family, anyone?" Archer scoffed and shook his head again.

"No. No, it's fine, really. Thanks, though." Declan shrugged, eyebrows still furrowed.

"It's nothing, I don't mind-"

"No. Seriously." Declan looked up, confused.

"Seriously. Not just for the phone call, though I do appreciate that. I mean, just... everything. I don't know what might've happened if you didn't answer the door last night. I've never been that scared in my life, to be completely honest. You could've just ignored the knocking, or called one of your goons or henchmen or whatever to come and dump me somewhere, but you didn't and I really appreciate that. I just cannot thank you enough." He finished, staring down at his lap and fidgeting with his thumbs. Declan watched as Archer's deep brown eyes flitted down from his thumbs up to his misty grey ones.

"It's okay." Declan finally answered. "Like, I know we're meant to be enemies or whatever, and we've always hated each other's guts and stuff... but I don't wanna see you dead, especially not in my house. As much as we're sworn nemeses it was just... it was scary to see you like that, I guess. That, and you'd make a horrible addition to my furniture, you'd stink up the place within days." Archer snorted and half-heartedly glared at the man sat across from him.

"Charming." He snarked, making Declan grin cheekily.

"Of course. So um, are you feeling alright? Beside the blatant dizziness and lack of coordination skills. I could get you a cab to the city, or walk you somewhere if you want? The ambulance doesn't answer to this address anymore, as I said, so I don't really have a way to get you one right now."

"Um, I don't really mind either way. Kinda drowsy, but I don't think I'm gonna die, so that's always a plus. Uh, can't really walk straight, so unless you're carrying me I think a cab is in order." Declan smiled and pulled out his phone.

"Got it. You sure you're alright, though?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."

***

After the cab was called they both stood up, collecting the coffee cups and taking them back to the kitchen.

"You know, you really don't need to help out, it's more than okay if you wanna sit down while you're waiting for the cab to get here. They tend to take a little while longer than usual because the house is in the outskirts of the city. That, and apparently I'm scary or something so they have to send their toughest person out here. Usually being Eleanor. Nice lady, bit stern but you learn to love her." Declan rambled as he carefully stowed away the cups in the dishwasher. He looked up and into the living room, only to realise what a mess it had become from the incident that had occurred earlier.

The picture frame wasn't smashed, thankfully, but it had opened and the picture had miraculously escaped somehow and lay on the floor near it. A couple of stray coasters had been scattered across the floor, alongside the book he was reading about drugs in and a few others that had been knocked down in the chaos, and the TV remote had landed upon the rug by the door.

"Oh dear God." Declan whispered, somehow just realising the pigsty his house had become. Archer woozily stood next to him and winced when he saw the state of the room.

"Oh yeah, sorry about that too." He said guiltily, stumbling over to the rug and picking up the remote.

"Hey, hey, you don't need to do anything. It's fine, I can sort it." Archer straightened up, remote still in hand. He pointed it at Declan in mock-anger.

"No, it's not 'fine'. I trashed your place and the least I can do is help. Just let me help out, consider it me returning a favour or something." They stood for a moment, the remote having been lowered and placed on the table. Declan sighed wearily, shrugging.

"Alright, but if you get injured I take no responsibility."

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