Disclaimer : Arrow belongs to the CW and its owners. I make no profits of my work.
Author's Note : Hello everyone ! Here is a translation of one of my french fic about Quentin Lance and Laurel Lance. Some people said to me, it was too much "out" of the series, but I think it was like that. At least, it's how I imagin it. I really love Quentin's character so I hope I did good ^^' ! Have a good reading and please, leave me reviews to let me know what you think of this OneShot and if there's no mistakes, since english is not my mother tongue ^^' ! Bye and See Ya' !
It was a beautiful late afternoon on Starling City. The sun, which had lit up the city all day, started its descent gently in the sky, to let appear its partner it never meets : the Moon. While young people are beginning to prepare to leave their homes to join their friends and go out to party all night, older ones are gently closing the shutters of their windows with flower pots. Further down the street, a car runs quietly on the road before cutting its engines in a small garden with a small family home in a quiet, uneventful neighborhood of the town. Climbing off the vehicle, which had seen better days, a young man in his twenties, accompanied by his little girl of four years old is quick to open the door of the house.
"Where's Sarah?AndMom?" Asks the girl disoriented not see the other two occupants of the house.
"Youdo not remember, sweetheart ? Momaccompanied your sister's classfora trip toCentral City." Said his father putting him at her height.
"Oh yes, I forgot." She said almost sheepish.
His father gives her a reassuring smile that spreads quickly on the face of the girl. Approaching his father, dark hair and police officer uniform for all garments, she jumps into his arms before he lifts her, getting up. The little girl, long brown hair, immediately wraps her little arms around the neck of this young father and looks at him with eyes filled with joy and admiration :
"Sothat meansit's justthe two of ustonight?"
"Yes, just the two of us, Laurel." Quentin Lance replied with a smile.
He enjoyed those rare and complicit moments with his senior. Not that he did not like to be with his wife and his youngest, but he loved, from time to time, being able to spend some time alone with one of his daughters, his treasures, the most precious beings of his world. Becoming a father so young, at age 22 the first time to be exact, had changed him. Never before could he have imagined feeling so much love for a being, feeling the constant need to protect. Of course, when your name was Quentin Lance, life before paternity had not looked like a idleness, chronic delinquency : it was the opposite in fact. He had always been inhabited by this conviction to do good, justice, and that is why he had joined the police force after graduation. His tidy bachelor life had been quickly forgotten when he met Dinah. The ordinary had given way to a passion, crazy and unconditional love: who could have predicted ? No one in fact, not even Quentin. He had found the love of his life by stopping a small pickpocket who was trying to run away with her purse. The love between two people held in little, yes. But when he struck you as it struck Quentin, it couldn't escape you. And from this union between two different beings yet, were born two daughters : Sara and Laurel.
Quentin was brought out of his dreams when his eldest daughter leaned her finger strongly on his cheek.
"Dad, are you there?"
"Ouch, that hurts Laurel!" He said half laughing, not able to blame her. "Sorry, honey, daddy was justlost in thought. Anyway, it's time to take a bath."
Not protesting, the little girl let her father climbs the stairs to the bathroom, still installed in his strong and powerful arms. Arriving in the bathroom, Quentin let Laurel gets undress, helping from time to time if she needed. Letting out some water in the bathtub, the girl manages to go into it, not without the help of her father, who raised her to climb over the walls of the bath. From a laughing and playful mood, the little girl ends up splashing the room shortly before getting out of the tub, splashing water over her father who replies to the delight of her daughter. After having dried and strung her pajamas, the small Laurel leads the way in the descent of the stairs, followed by her father, who had time to leave his uniform for more informal clothes.
"Dad, can I watch a cartoon,please?" Laurel requests with an imploring look.
"Okaysweetie, what do you wantto watch?"
"Winnie the Pooh!"
"Again ?"
"Yes!"
Smiling, facing to the enthusiasm of his daughter, Quentin does as she told and enters the cassette in the player. After verifying that it was well rewound, he launched the cartoon before going fussing in the kitchen to prepare dinner for Laurel and him. The smell of good food quickly comes to the nostrils of the girl, who is quick to turn her head to his father :
"It smells ... Breaded fish !" She said excitedly.
"Congratulations, you guessed it! Breaded Fish and mixed vegetables, your favorite dish."
"Yipiiiiiiii" She replied in a more playful tone.
The smile that appears on the face of the police officer is even bigger than the last. He rarely gets angry against his daughters. On the one hand because they are rather wise, although Sara seems more inclined to do exactly as she wants, and also because the young father can't resists long to his wonders. He knows how to be firm when necessary, but for now, at such a young age, the girls don't give white hair to their father. Knowing him, he knows that growing up, they will make his life a little harder than now, but it is also the normal course of things in a parent's life.
Peeling a carrot and then cutting it into small pieces and putting it in the pressure cooker, he continues the same actions with the potatoes. Adding the peas and some bacon, Quentin closed the casserole and sits next to his little girl, always watching the adventures of Winnie the Pooh. He is hardly installed on the sofa that Laurel snuggled against him. He is happy to witness this moment of complicity between him and his eldest, and hugs her. He lends a discreet ear to the cartoon, waiting the whistle of the pressure cooker that would announce that the meal was ready. Rising, the small hand of his daughter who shoots his sleeve, stops him.
"Where are you going Dad?"
"I'll just set the table, it's almost ready, honey."
The little girl then drops her hand with a smile on her little childish face before getting up without a word to help her father, at least try, Winnie, Eeyore, Piglet and Tigger soon forgotten. Too small in size to reach the table, she climbs on the little stool, her parents bought for her and her sister, before placing plates and glasses for them. Quentin is responsible of the cutlery, water and bread before serving Laurel. The girl hops on site just by smelling the smell of the dish prepared by her father, who now sits at the table.
"Do you want me to cut you your breaded fish?"
"No!" She said quickly. "I am grown, I cut it myself."
"It's true, you're right. Big girls cut their fish alone." He replies, which has the effect of making the small child smile.
After a good meal, Laurel finished to the last crumb, and a short time to play with her dolls, it is already time for the girl to go to bed.
"You read me a story, eh Dad?"
"Yes sweetie, why do you want to hear?"
"You choose!"
"What about a story of Little Bunny Blue?" He proposes
"Yipiiiii" Almost shouts his daughter.
Quentin released the collection of stories from the small library and opens it, starting to tell a new adventure of the little rabbit to his daughter. After several minutes when the little fight against sleep, desperate to know the end of the story, she closes her eyes, slowly, just to rest them she thinks. But her body has decided otherwise and she falls asleep much faster, shortly before Quentin completes the story. Taking care to store the book, he kissed the forehead of her daughter, lost in dreamland, before leaving the room quietly.
Later that night, Quentin, half sleepy, was awakened by the sound of his door opened against the carpet in his room. At first he saw nothing unusual, eyes plunged into darkness, but then he noticed a tiny figure in the doorway, once his sight gets used to the surrounding darkness.
"Dad?"
"What's wrong sweetie?" He asks, his hoarse voice betraying fatigue.
"I can't sleep; I'm scared all alone in my room. Can I come with you?"
Unable to refuse the request of his daughter, he makes her a simple nod, as he pushes the cover for Laurel to slip underneath. Arrived in the big bed of his father with her teddy, a small black canary, she wraps herself in the blankets while snuggling against Quentin, who hugs her back.
"No monsters here, eh? Just you and me?"
"Yes honey, just you and me." He replies, kissing her on the forehead for the second time of the evening. "Goodnight Laurel."
"Good night, Dad."
Sleep quickly gets over the little girl that doesn't let go of her father for the all night.