"Stop Callin'"
By Wtchcool
Disclaimer: If I owned "Arrow," there would be significantly more photos of Quentin on The CW's official site.
It was only supposed to be until Christmas.
Lance had given the Hood until December 25 to track down the madman that was doing a credible job of framing him for a murder spree. After that, the ceasefire would be over and he'd go back to hunting down the vigilante.
But Christmas had come and gone and the Hood had not been able to stop his copycat. He hadn't unmasked him, either.
At least, that's what the Hood had told Quentin when he called. He'd had no luck finding out the killer's secret identity, despite the fact that Lance had done the previously unthinkable and slipped the archer evidence.
Quentin eyed the phone the messenger had delivered. He'd known it was fruitless, but he had felt obligated to try to trace the Hood when he'd called. No such luck, of course. The signal bounced around endlessly, no telling where it originated from.
He ought to get rid of the cell phone. If it couldn't be used against the thief who had sent it, it was useless…
And yet… this allowed him to speak with the Hood, a chance to do so without guns or bows being drawn. They could be frank with each other. They could cooperate—no; he shouldn't cooperate with some spoiled rich kid that thought he was above the law… But this copycat was still out there, a man (or woman) exponentially more ruthless than the man in green leather, and working together might be the only way to stop him.
It was best not to discard the phone just yet. And keeping the phone's existence a secret went without saying.
~QL~
It was harder to justify using the phone outside of an investigation.
The Hood must have been simply trying to get under his skin at first. Teasing him, driving him crazy, it was probably the thief's way of handling the animosity between him.
When the Hood's disguised voice had asked, 'what are you wearing?' Quentin had stared at the phone in shock for several minutes before hurriedly hanging up. He suspected the outlaw had said something during those minutes, but he hadn't heard anything else.
The next time, the Hood hadn't asked. He'd just gone straight to telling Quentin what he'd like to do to him.
It was several more times before Quentin managed to speak about what he would do in turn. (He didn't bother asking what the Hood—or Arrow as he was sometimes called—was wearing. It was taken for granted that the answer was green leather.)
Lance was quite sure the Hood hadn't had phone sex in mind when he'd purchased the cell phone and oh god, he'd really had phone sex with the perp. What was he thinking?! What was the matter with him? He'd meant to start dating after his wife had left him, but that was a far cry from masturbating to the modulated voice of a man he'd sworn to bring to justice.
Fuck. This had to stop.
The worst part, he decided, was that his daughter (along with half the women in Starling City) had an obvious crush on the hooded man, despite her ongoing relationship with Merlyn.
No, the worst part, he realized as the phone rang again, was that he wasn't at all sure he could put a stop to this—even though he had a suspicion he knew who was on the other end of the phone.
THE END
Author's Note: I really, really thought this might have occurred to someone else after the last episode, but no one was writing it.
Odd, but not quite as strange as what I read online, that Quentin was based on the comic book character Larry Lance, who was married to Dinah Drake (a.k.a. the Black Canary).
The title, of course, is from Lady Gaga's "Telephone."
If you need a second helping of Quiver, please check out my current fic, "Black Bird; Green Arrow."