The title is not for the reasons you think. I know because I made the reason but the title is by far the best I have ever made. Really proud of it and you will see later why.
Working on Beyond Description which I'm sad to say is nearing it's end. As is Little One.
Oliver swirled his mouth out with mouthwash, it tasted far to minty but it was better than walking home with the taste of the blonde tech bodily fluids on his tongue.
She was a nice women, young and pretty but she had bad luck with men, however Ollie was always there to make her feel better after. She was a regular client, although she was still rather shy about the whole matter but she paid well and after she always let him use her shower or mouthwash in this case.
Oliver pulled on his tight skinny jeans over his naked behind and his deep blue dress shirt. He paused for a moment, eyeing the tattoo of a star on his chest that ensured his production on the streets of Starling. He smirked, doing up his shirt before grabbing his favourite jacket from where it sat folded on the toilet seat. It was black leather, tinted ever so slightly, giving it a green shine, with green cotton fabric sown on from the under the armpits up, with a hood. This, along with a pair of leather pants of the same dark green and a pair of black boots, made up his outfit for when he was looking for work on the streets.
Oliver opened the door to find Felicity sitting on her bed, she held up the notes to him with a shy smile.
Ollie chuckled and kissed her cheek before moving back and taking the notes.
She blushed.
Oliver stretched his arms out with a yawn as he walked down the street. He had put a lot of money away using the Bratva lately so he could keep the amounts for tonight and yesterday.
His body was worn, his arse still sore from his meeting with Diggle and all he wanted was to go home to his little run down apartment and go to bed. Especially after these past few weeks. One of his semi regulars Laurel had been complaining about her sister, then hours later another one of his regulars Sara had been complaining about her sibling. With the exact same story and they did look rather alike, it did not take long for Oliver to put two and two together. Then his detective client Quentin had cancelled on yet another of their meetings, trying to work around that man's life was a nightmare. Ollie did not mind if it was during their time together as the Sargent always paid him in full but an hour or so before costs Ollie money.
His route as always took him past an old style pub.
Since the age of nineteen, when his father kicked him out -or he ran away, as the old man would say- Oliver had started working on the streets. At the age of twenty-two, he had men a navy man coming out of this pub as he happened to pass it. That night had by far been the weirdest hook up of his life because there was no sex. No nothing. They went back to his hotel and chatted. Ollie had not been in big rush, although this guy did not look like the kind to follow a sad act -not that the blonde was any good at that-, he had a lot of money by the looks of his room so Oliver figured that the more they talked meant the more time the man would pay for. After an hour, the man wished him good night and Ollie left with his hours worth and money for a cap.
The guy was gorgeous, naturally tanned skin, large hand, huge bulging arms and chest, his hair was a military cut which was sometimes a short cut and spiky and sometimes puffy, which made Oliver just want to run his hands through it all night. His eyelashes were long and black, framing his dark brown, almost black irises. Everything about him from the dark hair on his arms, his large body to his deep coarse Australian accent was just so primal.
Every couple of months, like clockwork this guy would come to Starling and go to that pub. Oliver would just pass by the window, glancing in and their eyes would meet, and that was it. To his hotel room for nothing but light chatting and watching some TV. They would meet up a handful of times for a week or two and then the man would be off again.
He had told Oliver before about him being in the navy so the blonde guessed that was what he was doing now but he was not sure. People in the armed forces left for months, years at a time and returned for much longer than a couple of weeks. Ollie knew when things like work were not to be asked about, so he didn't. He liked the man though. He had even taught Oliver how to fight on one of his stays, both defence and attack moves from all over the globe, China mostly. Oliver guessed that the man was just lonely and Ollie was happy to keep him company. He was a really fun guy to be around and after one of his many stop over periods, Oliver had even brought his leather jacket as a Christmas present to himself.
These visits went on for two years. Oliver waited for his next visit for three months before he realised that the man was later than usual and he missed him. He waited and waited, every night passing the pub, whether or not he had work. Nothing, nothing at all. It had been just over a year since the man's last visit and Oliver missed him still.
Oliver looked into the window, into every gap the man could be sitting in but found nothing. He sighed. Ollie slipped his phone from his pocket. Filled with the many numbers of his clients and his friends in the Bratva. Right at the top, below An for Anatoli, was Aussie. No contact number, nor photo. Just Aussie.
The blonde walked past the pub.
The following morning Oliver attended his weekly coffee morning with Tommy. The two of them had been best of friends since they were kids, he had even hid Oliver away in his house for a week while the blonde drained his bank accounts. Oliver had left the Queen manor with bruises and what he now knew to be two fractured ribs. Work was hard to come by due to his age, Tommy had tried to give him money but Ollie would not take it. He hated the idea of becoming a whore but it would pay the bills, he was young and cute -apparently- , it was cash in hand, so no paper trail and it was an ultimate fuck you to his father.
Tommy had done right by his friend thought, slipping him food, always paying for drinks and meals when they went out before Oliver ever had the chance, which Oliver both hated and loved him for. The greatest deed he ever did however was taking Oliver's virginity, the thing the blonde had been most worried about. Although according to his gentlemen callers he played the "virgin" card very well. He was a good actor but not a quick liar.
"How's work at Verdant going?" Tommy asked, placing their coffees down on the table and taking a seat.
Oliver leered at his friend but took the coffee. "Fine." Oliver said. "Got quite a bit of money saved up." It was February after all.
"That's good." Tommy nodded.
"Busy time of year."
Tommy grimaced. "Thanks for that."
Oliver grinned. Revenge.
Oliver spent a good few hours with Tommy. They talked about life, joked about events that had happened since their last meeting and as always there was a moment about Oliver's family. Robert was away for business, Moira was taking care of the company with the help of Walter -Oliver did not need a brain in his skull to figure that one out- and Thea had started to sneak into Oliver's old bedroom to sleep in again. Even at eighteen, she still found comfort from being in his room. Tommy did not know what had upset her as of late. It could have been social or she could just be missing her brother. Regardless Oliver knew he could not return.
At the same time he could not leave. He knew how the city was laid out, he had regular clients, he knew how the gangs and street walkers worked, and he had protection. He could enlist the Bratva's help in another city but he did not want to look a gift horse in the mouth with this one. No, Ollie was stuck here and moving away or going home was out of the question.
After Tommy, Oliver went to get some shopping. On his way to the pub and then home, he first took a detour through a small park. It was not much of a park but it was green. Trees with huge green leaves blocked out some of the city, even if the skyscrapers towered over them. The grass was a nice deep green and there were patches of daffodils everywhere. There was even a few groups of tulips planted in a row by some student. Red, pink, yellow, purple. All grouped together in three bright bundles of colour. Ollie liked them.
Oliver sat down on the bench facing the flowers, placing his shopping down by his feet. He just sat there for a moment, admiring the plant life.
Looking down to the grass at his feet, he saw a redish purple flower. He plucked it from the grass, holding the stem between his fingers and rolled it so the flower head bounced along the side of his finger and thumb.
"Arrow?"
Oliver felt his heart stop beating in his chest when he heard that deep and gravelly, Australian voice. Butterflies with wings of fire danced in his belly. He stopped breathing. His ribcage felt like it was clamping down on him like a vice.
Oliver looked over and could not help the wide smile that pulled at his lips. "Hey."
The Aussie smiled lightly, holding a hand out to the bench. "Do you mind?"
Oliver shook his head, moving to one side.
"Good to see you kid." the man said, taking a seat.
"It's been a long time." Oliver said.
"Yeah sorry about that." The man said, looking over to the tulips. "It could not be helped. When did those get here?"
"They were planted a few months back. It's little a early for them to be flowering but it has been warm this year." Oliver said, "Daffodils too." he pointed over to the yellow flowers.
"And clover."
Ollie raised a brow at the older man.
"In your hand."
Oliver lifted the purple flower, eyeing it with his bright blue eyes, mixed with swirls of emerald and speckles of gold around the centre. "I didn't know clover had flowers."
"Red and white clover." he said, resting an arm along the back of the bench.
"Are flowers the only difference?"
The Aussie shrugged. "Red clover has a higher sugar content."
Oliver looked over to him.
"Good for livestock."
Oliver cocked a brow.
"Sheep, cows." The older man listed.
"Why do you know that?" Oliver grinned.
"I worked for a few farmers when I was younger."
"Younger? How old are you?"
The man pressed his lips together, leaning forward and ruffling Oliver's hair with his hand.
Ollie laughed, moving forward to get away. He held up his arms to protect himself, throwing the flower at the man, which bounced off his chest.
The man chuckled, leaning back against the seat. "The other difference is the meanings." he said, taking the flower from where it landed on his lap.
"What are the meaning?" Oliver asked. Although what he really wanted to know was how the man knew the meanings of different flowers.
"Red clover means hard worker."
Oliver nodded. He was a hard worker. More a worker for something hard.
"And white," the Aussie looked around the bench, spotting something and leaving. Coming back, he sat down with a smaller white flower with the same petal design of the red clover. "has two meanings. Think of me and I promise."
Oliver shook his head at the man. "You know weird things."
"It comes in use."
"Oh?"
"For example." The dark-eyed man said, holding the white clover flower in the air. "Your hand."
Oliver raised his hand, palm up.
"I will see you later tonight." the man said, placing the flower in blonde's hand.
Ollie smiled. "Where are you staying?"
"Same place as last."
"Number."
"Thirty."
"At eight?"
"Sounds good." The Australian stood. "Before I forget." he grinned. "My name is Slade Wilson." he said, before turning and leaving.
"Slade Wilson." Oliver mumbled the words as the man left, watching his large muscles move under his clinging clothing. The name tingled Ollie's lips.
