A collection of short stories to Arrowverse. I plan to update it whenever I come up with an idea that I don't necessarily want to realize as a longer story or simply don't have enough time to do so. It is a mix of genres and you can expect to find practically anything here. Gap-fillers, AUs and some really weird stuff.
Lost Arrowheads
5x01 gap-filler. Quentin's reaction to Oliver's arrowchute (loved that trick arrow).
Many thanks to supercode for beta. :)
A Parachute That Didn't Want to Be Folded
After the meeting in the City Hall with Thea Quentin decided to swing by the Arrowcave and check on Oliver. Since the Mayor (for Lance it was still bizarre to call him that) was not present in his office, it was the most likely place he could be found. He was actually curious to hear from him how the Green Arrow's cooperation with the cops he had vouched for turned out the previous night.
When he arrived to the vigilante's hideout, he discovered that not only did his remote control for opening the automatic door to the garage work, but also he still had his own parking place. That was a pleasant surprise. When he come into the open space of the base he immediately spotted Oliver sitting by one of the tables, his face bearing a quite sour expression. But what drew his attention the most was a huge pile of fabric lying before him in crumbled folds. Tangled up lines, covering it like some strange looking net, added to the chaos. For a while Lance was wondering if he is looking at some piece of an abstract art, when he noticed the green-and-black fletching of an arrow sticking out from under that whole bundle, barely visible. Everything clicked onto place.
"And I thought Benton was pulling my leg when he was telling me about this. You really have a parachute arrow," commented Quentin, as he approached Oliver.
"Yes, I have," he grumbled in response.
"Landing didn't go well?" asked Lance, noticing a huge violet bruise on his forearm.
Oliver only briefly looked at it as if he hadn't even noticed it earlier.
"If it didn't go well, we wouldn't be talking right now," he remarked. "Church escaped though," he added grimly.
"You managed to save the hostages. It's all that matters."
Oliver said nothing, but Lance could read him better than anyone. He knew that deep down he had a sense of accomplishment and seemed to be more hopeful that he had been in weeks. Ever since Laurel... At the mere thought of the beloved daughter that he had lost Quentin felt as if a sharp knife pierced his heart.
He glanced at the parachute again, just to focus his attention on something... anything that could help him escape from the dark thoughts that were lingering at the back of his mind. He couldn't allow himself to be overcome with grief again. Not when he promised himself that he would be strong. For Laurel. Even if right now his life had little or no meaning at all. But she would want him to carry on, no matter what. She was a fighter, his little girl. He needed to be a fighter too.
"So, how that work exactly?" he asked, pushing away the painful memories and trying to show some polite interest. His voice was a little hoarse, but he managed to lace it with a tinge of his usual dry humor. It wasn't that hard to do when a down-to-earth man like himself dealt with Oliver's trick arrows.
"Well, thanks to the fact that Cisco is a genius," Felicity cut in good-humoredly, before Oliver answered. Lance glanced toward her. He didn't notice her earlier, as she was half hidden behind huge computer screens, apparently busy with making some tweaks to the tracking software they have been using in the Arrowcave. "He invented this fabric. It's highly compressed—don't even ask me of what it's made of..."
"And how he managed to combine it with an arrow...?"
"That's something I would also want to know," remarked Felicity. "But for some reason Cisco was very secretive about that."
"So, it's for use only once?" Lance asked Oliver, who have been unusually silent when it came to the topic of the trick arrow. Quentin thought that it was a bit strange that he didn't participate in the conversation. What was more he had noticed that Oliver's eyes were riveted to the parachute as if it was some puzzle he wanted to crack. When he heard the question his expression for some reason become even sourer than before.
"I'll be back... later," he said suddenly, rising to his feet. "I need to... Check something in the garage. My motorbike... " His voice trailed off as he walked off quite hastily.
He never explained what exactly needed to be checked so urgently. Lance followed him with his eyes until he disappeared from view.
"What's wrong with him?" he asked suspiciously. "He's acting weird... I mean—weirder than usual..."
Felicity chuckled.
"It has been almost an hour since he tried to fold it up and get it back into that tiny arrowhead."
Lance glanced again at the parachute.
"Is that even physically possible?"
"Well, I think so—if you have the Flash's speed. And Oliver's pride just doesn't allow him to ask for help," she said half-jokingly.
